


Arcadia

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Class Issues, Cliche, Cohabitation, Cooking, Coulson and Skye are oblivious fools, Coulson is a coward, Developing Relationship, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Hydra (Marvel), I'M HITTING ALL THE CLICHES WITH THIS ONE AND I DON'T CARE, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, May knows what's up, Mentions of Racism, Mission Fic, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Roleplay, Romance, Skoulson RomFest 2k14, Skye gets what she wants, Trip knows what's up, Undercover, Undercover Missions, Undercover as Married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, X Files fusion because I want to, mentions of misogyny, skoulsonfest2k14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2199549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHIELD receives the tip that an upper class gated community might be harboring HYDRA fugitives.</p><p>Skye and Coulson go undercover to investigate. Undercover as a married couple. Everything goes exactly as anyone can imagine.</p><p>(Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k14 - Prompt: Undercover)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. domesticity

His reluctance to sleep in the same bed poses tactical challenges.

"What if the neighbors see you?" Skye asks.

She tries to sound reasonable and not like a perv. She _is_ being reasonable – but she does feel like a perv. Less than 24 hours undercover and she is definitely starting to get comfortable with the charade.

It's a bit predictable, that.

"Why would the neighbors come into the house to check where I'm sleeping?" Coulson asks.

She shrugs, like it's nothing to her.

"I don't know, but we should be ready for anything. They can't see us being anything less than the perfect marriage. Arcadia is a pretty conservative community. They could have infrared to spy on us. Have you thought about that?"

Pretty conservative community is a mild way of putting it – which makes sense, if they are offering real state opportunities to HYDRA criminals. Skye was a bit surprised there weren't more raised eyebrows when they saw the pair of them, and the obvious unconventionality of such a (pretend) marriage. Or maybe she is just projecting. Perhaps Coulson sees it as perfectly normal, someone like her hanging onto the arm of someone like him.

The old tenants had been the perfect picture of conventionality – except for their old ties to SHIELD, which is why they had chosen to get in touch with Coulson about the sinister underbelly of this utopian place. Which is what had eventually got them killed.

Skye reminds herself she's here to catch bad guys, _really_ bad guys, not play house.

It was fun getting to fool around when they were being introduced to the neighbors, though, scooting against him for the introductions and kissing him on the cheek. Unlike Fitz that one time Coulson didn't tense up, didn't blank out, he just wrapped his arm around Skye's waist casually, raising the stakes. He's pretty good at the whole undercover thing. He doesn't oversell it. He's playing someone very different from himself and yet the little touches, the easy smiles – it's not difficult to imagine this, more or less, is what it would feel like, being in a relationship with Coulson. Skye tries not to enjoy it too much.

"And I'm still bitter that you didn't let me carry you through the threshold," she points out on the second day.

Coulson does this slow blinking thing that lets her know he is fighting the urge to smile at her joke.

"You're no fun."

"This is not meant to be fun," he says, but his tone is friendly. He knows Skye is not disrespecting the couple who lost their lives (presumably, no one has seen the bodies) to warn SHIELD.

"Yeah, I know that."

Is it meant to be this weird? She wonders.

For a moment Skye twists the gold band over her finger. It makes her feel strange. In part because she knows it's something fake, in part beause it's Coulson, and in part because a wedding ring is the kind of stuff she never included in her plans of future. And she still doesn't. And well, she doesn't really care about the ring or about a meaningless piece of paper, that's not it – but the idea of companionship, of having a partner like that, Skye doesn't think she can reject it as she used to.

"And what about our surnames?" she asks. "Holden is such a boring choice."

"You wanted to choose _Petrie_."

She chuckles. "At least I didn't pick Jimenez again."

"I haven't forgiven you for that one," Coulson says and quirks a little smile as he continues unpacking.

Skye feels optimistic about the mission.

 

+

 

It takes Skye two days to convince him to sleep in the same bed.

She is right, of course. She is being the professional one here. He's just letting his personal misgivings get in the way of the mission. He didn't think this could be the case.

He knew this strange arrangement was bound to stir some things up, that's why he pretty much left the preparations to Skye on her own. Because he didn't want to think about the details.

Skye had the right instincts picking their fake identities, he's impressed. At this point he still has the ability to be surprised by her. She was smart making his character Robert Holden a widower – people look more kindly on a guy who shows up with a wife more than twenty years his junior when he has gone through the trauma of losing a spouse. For a person who hasn't been properly educated in social interaction that choice shows a lot of insight on Skye's. It also tells him that she is aware of how inappropriate the assumption of a romantic relationship between people like them looks, from the outside. She might even agree with this point. 

He's just doing it again, Coulson reflects, he's dragging his personal feelings into this.

Sleeping in the same bed is not as awkward as he'd imagine. There is no alarming morning scene where they find they have accidentally tangled limbs during the night as he feared. No such thing. He always finds Skye in the exact same position she took the night before, curled up at the other edge of the bed, giving him all the space in the world and it looks like she doesn't move an inch while she sleeps. He wonders if she learned that sleeping in the limited room of her van or if it's a habit from before that. There's another possibility: that she might be too intimidated by him, even though she suggested sharing the bed in the first place. The idea makes his stomach drop, he doesn't like it, but it's better than the alternative.

Bottom line is he shouldn't have overreated about the bed issue.

He finds other ways to make things awkward.

When they asked what she did now Skye had replied she worked from home, because Robert " _doesn't want to share me with the rest of the world_ ". Coulson knew it was pretend, part of her character (just like the way her body swayed and pressed against his side was just part of her character, not the real Skye seeking his touch) but it sat ill with him. Listening to Skye say something so uncharacteristic. It made him wonder what it would be like to know the truth, to know what Skye would need from a relationship.

Of course he can't keep his mouth shut and be professional for just this once.

"That's what you want? Someone who doesn't want to share you with the rest of the world?" 

He know he shouldn't ask this kind of question, but something about the phrasing bothered him.

Skye snorts, throwing a truly offended glare his way. "Please, Coulson. _As if_. But these people think that's what all women should want."

"You know that?"

"Follow my lead on this," she says. There is no arrogance in there, just a quiet and profound wisdom he wasn't expecting. He wonders.

"You're the expert on undercover now," he comments, without bite, just curious.

"Well, no, but I'm the expert on suburban life."

He pauses at her tone.

"How old were you?" he asks.

She turns to him, looking kind of surprised at how quickly he understood.

"Thirteen. It's amazing the kind of crap thirteen year olds can pick up around them."

She says nothing more on the subject and he knows better than to press Skye about her past but that night he catches her looking outside the living room window, while the neighbors walk their dog on the too-quiet street, and her expression is one of unusual disdain. He doesn't think he has seen Skye put that face before.

But whatever Skye personally feels about this environment she plays a perfect role in front of the neighbors. The third day Nick and Sylvia (the couple from the end of the street, whom Skye has identified as "the real power" in the community) come over the house for a middle-of-the-morning glass of wine and to see how Skye and Coulson are settling in.

He has never seen Skye work a mark up close, has never been there to witness it as it happens. He doesn't wonder how she survived so long on the streets on her own. She's got this. Even though the smile is fake it is perfect. At some point she curls her hand over his while she smiles at their new acquantainces, over their marble kitchen counter. Even though it's fake it's nice, if only because Coulson has not been in a position to receive casual affectionate physical contact in so long, and because Skye doesn't seem to struggle so much with it as with the smiling and the chit chat. He would like to ask if it's the same for her; it's been more than a year since Miles Lydon and as Skye's ultimate superior he can see that she is lonely in that sense, and that she is beginning to accept the lack of intimacy with another human being as part of the sacrifices she has to make for SHIELD. Coulson doesn't want her to become him, and he doesn't want new SHIELD to be shaped by his own experiences. He knows it's a fiction but there can't be any harm in indulging in such an innocent gesture. He takes Skye's hand and turns it over so that he can lace their fingers together, distractedly, while they talk to the other couple. He feels her relax into it, brush her thumb gently along the heel of his hand.

"Do you know anything about the couple who lived here before? It was so lucky that a free house popped up right when we were looking to buy."

Skye's focus on the mission kind of breaks the spell but Coulson can't help but admire the subtle show of interest. She's already established Laura Holden as chatty, sociable and more than a little nosy, so the question should raise no alarms.

And it doesn't. And Nick and Sylvia are very good, they barely blink at it (but Coulson can tell the difference between barely blinking and not blinking at all).

It's the wife who answers, while Nick smiles at Skye warmly.

"Ah, they didn't quite fit in. The rest of us tried to make them feel at home but... we weren't clicking. You know how it goes. They went back East."

Skye nods. 

"I hope the same thing doesn't happen to us," she says, laughing, and Coulson almost chokes at the unexpected grim humor only someone who knows Skye can detect in her voice.

"I'm sure there will be lots of clicking with you two," Nick jokes and throws a knowing glance at Coulson.

He gets what Skye meant; he can't imagine himself ever liking these people.

 

+

 

"That went well."

"You sound surprised," she points out.

"No. But this is kind of a delicate assigment. And I've never done anything like this."

"Undercover?"

"Not like this."

It's unusual to hear Coulson speak so freely about his own shortcomings. He's nervous about the mission, Skye could tell from minute one, from minute minus ten; but for him to tell her so... it's a good sign.

"I think they were charmed enough by you," she reassures him. "The psychos."

"They invited me to jog with them in the mornings," Coulson says.

He does fit right in, she thinks, at least superficially. The jogging and the talking about antique furniture and wine. She had to do a lot of research preparing for the mission, but he seems to sink into the scene effortlessly.

There are other things he seems to do effortlessly.

She thinks about the way Coulson held her hand earlier. It surprised her – she had touched him lightly, to put on a show for Nick and Sylvia, to flaunt their status as a excited couple buying their first house together. She hadn't thought Coulson would reciprocate. It's _undercover_ , she gets it, but it had been a bit more playful and a bit more enthusiastic than she had expected. The whole situation is bizarre, she realizes, having to play the lovestruck pair every day, and Coulson is perhaps the unlikeliest person to go on a mission like this. Not that he is repressed normally, but he is so private that it's hard to imagine him prone to intimate gestures in front of strangers. She feels bad about how nice it felt, though, his casual (but totally calculated) touch and wonders if she was holding on to his hand longer than the mission parameters required.

She can't think like that. If she keeps obsession about mission parameters and propriety her character is not going to be convincing. She will hold hands with her boss and she will not worry about how much she likes it.

 

+

 

The first few days he spends pretending to go to work in the mornings, only to start tailing every person in the community, follow them to their jobs, to make sure that is indeed where they were going. He starts with Nick Clarke, driving behind him to his law firm two towns away.

A couple of times he feels he himself is being followed, so he changes the strategy.

Once they have a good idea of where everybody goes normally, what is the pattern with these people, it'll be easier to spot the anomaly. Once he finishes figuring everybody out he will pass on the data to the team so they can keep an eye on all of them. There's only so much he and Skye can do behind the gates.

He spends the all morning and all afternoon driving and he comes home (home? that sounds innacurate) to Skye still working at her computer, just as he left her after breakfast. But she hasn't spent all morning like that, she's informs him right after dinner.

"Guess what? You're not the only one who charmed the neighbors. Nick and Sylvia have invited us for a wine glass at their house tomorrow. What is it with these people and wine? Is there something I don't know?"

He tries not to smile at that, he wouldn't want Skye to think he's being patronizing – but he's pretty sure she couldn't tell between red and white wine if it weren't for the different color.

"Nick commented he has a wine cellar in the basement." He notices Skye's face doing _something_. "What? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that if I were to try and smuggle wanted terrorists to another country I would probably hide them in a cellar."

These people look benign enough, he thinks, but they have already killed two people to protect their secret; Coulson doesn't want to rush things, do something that could put him and Skye in danger. There is no way of knowing how mild Nick and Sylvia would react if they knew who their new neighbors really are.

"Sounds like something out of a movie," he says.

"Yes, it does."

"I doubt they'd invite us over if they had a HYDRA agent squatting in the basement."

She rolls her eyes at his lack of faith. "I know that. But it could be a good chance to do some reconnaissance, see if we can plant a couple of bugs."

"Yes, it could."

He admires how proactive Skye has become of late. She's never been shy about expressing her own opinions on missions, but ever since they moved to the Playground (even since he became director) she's been set on enforcing her own ideas. That's good, he thinks, that means she feels comfortable that they won't be shot down. He had asked her to help him build the new SHIELD and she had taken that promise to heart.

He watches her work at her computer, perched over a kitchen stool and not minding the hour.

"Are you coming up?" he asks, feeling weird about inquiring if his subordinate is going to come to bed _with him_.

"I still have a couple of things to touch up down here," she replies. He wonders if she is doing it on purpose. "Good night, _Robert_."

Coulson snorts. "Yes, you're right. Good night, Laura."

He feels her climb into bed later, when he is already half-asleep, the mattress raises and here he is, sleeping with someone after so much time, even in a roundabout way, even if it's fake; once more Skye settles under the sheets without a sound and slides her body (Coulson cannot help but notice how warm the night soon becomes) to the edge of the bed, as if trying not to bother him.

 

+

 

"These clothes are the worst. Well, they are nice. But they are totally not me. Not my style."

"No, you don't look like yourself," Coulson agrees.

There's something off in his voice. Skye doesn't think too hard about it, because that's the quickest way of turning this whole undercover thing into something that it's not, and she has more sense and more self-preservation instinct than that. Still, there's something in Coulson's voice and in his expression, like he misses the way she normally dresses, like he is a bit pissed off at this not-really-Skye, this simulacrum.

She doesn't look like herself in the mirror, that's true, which shouldn't bother her as much as it does, and she is wearing far too much make-up for what she likes, but she needs to look like she belongs. She's good at that, though. And if she could do it for herself for so long she definitely can do it for the mission.

"You, on the other hand," she comments, almost grimacing at his attire, "look like you fit right in."

It's kind of funny because she has read his file and this couldn't be further from the kind of environment where Coulson grew up and yet – yeah, he looks like he belongs, the polo and the khakis and the boring smile he gives the neighbors when they open the door.

When they sit in the living room – the super expensive super maudlin wallpaper, Skye could barf – Coulson puts his arm around her shoulder casually. She tries not to fidget. The curiosity comes back to her. Is this how Coulson normally is, when he is in a relationship, or is it for the benefit of their hosts? This mission will raise this kind of questions for her, in a way it can't be helped. She can only hope it won't interfere too much. She can't imagine Coulson being this into PDA, to be fair, though she finds the touch warm in its fakeness. But maybe she's just starved, it's been a pretty long time. There's a woman in Portland who knows the answers to these questions, someone Coulson actually loves, even though he has been ambiguous about his plans on that respect – he hinted he had no hopes of continuing the relationship but she doubts that's the end of it.

"Welcome to Arcadia, _officially_ ," Nick Clarke tells them and something about his smile makes Skye uncomfortable. Something other than the possibility he might be collaborating with Nazis.

 

+

 

Living with Skye in close quarters is... surprisingly easy in some aspects.

It's quite different than living with her and the team in the Playground, in the Bus. He had feared they'd be in each other's way.

He had worried she'd be messy (he has seen her van) but she's not messy at all. She's clean and she travels surprisingly light – no, actually, not _surprisingly_. Some times he forgets Skye doesn't do things in a normal way, because she can't. She doesn't hog the bathroom in the mornings – actually, Coulson is pretty sure he takes longer – and her things never get in the way. He wouldn't have expected a Rising Tide hacker to be this disciplined but he should have known better.

She sets shop in the spacious kitchen, behind the tv and the couch. It takes her a couple of nights to crack the neighbors' security systems – nighttime is somehow less complicated because Coulson is normally already asleep by the time she goes to bed. It's a bit unnerving waking up next to another person and that makes him realize, again, how long it's been since he's done so. He's just really lonely, that's why he finds all this unnerving but _nice_. He likes the sound of Skye pacing in the kitchen while she checks everybody's emails in search of a clue. He likes sharing a conspiratory glance with her when the neighbors aren't looking. He actually likes having someone to talk to during meals – for some reason he tends to eat in his office alone whenever they go back to the base.

He's beginning to like this arrangement a little too much. He's beginning to get used to it in a way he knows he's going to miss all this when the mission is over and he doesn't have to share everything with Skye. So he does what he usually does. He goes too far the other way.

"Is there something wrong?" Skye asks him.

He watches her bite at her lower lip, trying to stop her natural instinct, which is to ask Did _I_ do something wrong? even though she knows she hasn't.

"No," he replies, but he realizes that's no real answer to why he has been distant and cold all day. "I'm just... frustrated. I'm not used to missions progressing so slowly. It has hit me that we might be here for the long run."

"I'm sorry," she says, honestly, like she feels she should be doing more somehow.

He shakes his head. "It's okay. Those people risked everything to warn us of the situation here. The least I can do is make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain."

Skye drops her gaze.

"I don't get it. I mean, I know the dark heart at the center of places like this but... they are basically helping Nazis. Don't they have any trouble with that?"

Uncomfortable silence falls after her words. What can he tell her? She's not naive. She knows the world – probably better than he does. 

He wonders if she is thinking about Ward.

He wants to keep her mind away from disturbing thoughts.

"I'll make dinner tonight," he tells her.

He knows he'll get a reaction from that. He does.

"Oh. _Really_?"

They've been ordering food so far, or eating out while surveilling their targets in town, using the excuse that they are not already settled in, accepting neighbor's welcome dishes.

"Yes."

"Sorry, we haven't set up the division of labor. This is not like a usual mission," she says. "I could cook today if you want. Set up a schedule..."

"No offense, Skye, but I saw you had a camping stove in your van. I'm not sure I'm that brave." She pouts. "And I don't mind. It'll be nice to get a break from the Playground's diet."

By the wistful look on her face he can see Skye agrees on that point.

"I could make soup," she argues, a little hurt in her pride. 

He's skeptical, if a bit curious. He's going all the way to the other side now, enjoying the banter more than the mission requires.

"Soup?"

"Yes, _even I_ can manage that. You just boil water and throw a lot of stuff in."

"... _throw a lot of stuff in_?" He watches her blush, which is kind of a novelty in itself. "No, no, I'm sorry, now I'm definitely excited about the idea of you making soup."

He watches as she mutters some muted comeback and says she'll go set the table.

He makes two generous bowls of salad for him and Skye. He has bought quite a lot of stuff, and upscale, too – he has to play the rich guy to the last details, and he has already established the image of the connoisseur, at least among these people. It's not that much of a stretch. He hasn't had the opportunity to cook regularly in years, but he still likes it. He enjoys the idea of making something Skye might like. He remembers the last time he did this – she was trying to impress a woman, he was with Audrey, still trying to impress her six months into the relationship. He doesn't have to impress Skye, it's not like that with her. But he still gets a little thrill of offering the simple but classy dish of rocket, cherry tomatoes and smoked ham with a hint of tarragon and orange to her and watch her eat it with delight. In a way it's good that _it's not like that_ with Skye, that he doesn't have to impress her. He feels freer like this.

Afterwards he carries the empty plates to the sink and Skye protests loudly.

"You've made dinner, I should wash the dishes."

"It's okay," he says.

But Skye doesn't let it go. "No, move over."

She pushes her hip against him, trying to get him out of the way, but he stands his ground so they end up trying to wash the dishes both at the same time, a mess of hands under the water.

They elbow each other gently in the ribs as soon as they see an opening.

"Great," Coulson says when Skye splashes water over his shirt.

She laughs, swaying her body happily against his, her hair falling on his shoulder.

Coulson worries he is beginning to really not hate this mission.


	2. socializing

When she comes down for breakfast he's deep in the manual the neighbors had dropped for them earlier that week.

"I see you've got a hold of the community's rules & regulations," Skye says while she pours herself a cup of coffee. She's obviously already been through its pages. Its many pages.

"It's fifty-two pages long," he comments. "Fifty-two."

She shrugs. "Yes."

"There's a list of acceptable flowers we have plant in our garden. _Acceptable_. Flowers. What is this?"

"There's beauty in uniformity." He gives her a look. "That's what the whole thing is about, right? That's why all the houses look the same. There's a certain comfort in knowing you're surrounded with people like you. Even I can see the appeal."

"Even you," he repeats.

"Well, at least I could see the appeal at thirteen. Spend your life getting told you could never be normal, see how quick you fall for the suburban lifestyle."

For once she doesn't sound exactly bitter – she sounds quite nostalgic about the naivete of her thirteen year old persona. He doesn't want to guess when that changed, when did she fall out of love with the idea of being exactly like the rest of the kids in the street.

He doesn't even have the excuse of being thirteen and Coulson wonders if Skye would hate that about him, that even today he can see the appeal of another life, even if he doesn't exactly want it anymore. Or he doesn't want _this_ another life – but he wants something more than he's getting, even if he doesn't know what.

While he stays silent, Skye kicks into gear.

"I have to take the car," she tells him. "I'm going to see Trip, that was today – I need to ask Fitz to develop some inventions for me."

"Be careful."

"Don't worry. I told him I'll meet him somewhere none of our neighbors would ever set foot."

 

+

 

The nearest mall is a huge, impersonal affair in the middle of a patch of dry land.

Most of the people in the gated community do their groceries online, or drive to the nearest town with a gourmet shop and designer stores. They wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this mall. Which is perfect for Skye's needs.

Trip is there first, casually reading a magazine at Starbucks – because likewise these people are fresh juices people who think coffee is evil, specially chains. Skye grins when she seems him; she enjoys the quality time with Coulson, of course, but that doesn't mean she doesn't miss the team. Sometimes.

"So how are things in the nice side of the street?" he asks her.

Skye snorts. Trip had been a firm candidate for this mission, the right background – she almost picked him, but looking at the all white composition of the neighborhood she figured Trip would raise too many alarms. Even her own presence was made palatable to the Aryan brotherhood because she had made Coulson a widower first and because she can pass up as exotic (yeah, she has noticed how they look at her) rather than unwelcome. And well, they can't really have this mission without her.

"These are the specs," she hands Trip the flash drive. "Tell Fitz I need the bugs asap."

"Any luck?"

"Probably, they're all creeps. Anyone could be harboring secret Nazis in their houses."

"Maybe they are?" Trip comments.

"What do you mean?"

"What if they all know? Maybe it's a Stepford Wives situation. Everybody is in the loop."

Skye hasn't read that book but she knows the story. It's a good approximation. Except it's not just the wives who are robots, it's everybody. Nazi-aiding robots. It would be a good plot for a movie, she thinks.

"Yeah," she agrees. "I didn't want to imagine twenty couples would be okay with the plan, but I guess you are right."

Trip turns the drive in the palm of his hand.

"Contact me in a couple of days, we'll arrange a way to drop what you need."

"Coulson is pretty sure he's been followed a couple of times when he went into town but so far they've left me alone. They must have been pretty satisfied with all the background checks." Trip smiles. "What?"

"You're pretty satisfied yourself with your false identities."

Skye sits straight, giving him a smug look. "Well, I did do an excellent job."

Trip chuckles.

"So how's that working out? Being another person?"

It's not the first time, Skye thinks. But this is different, of course. In part she wishes she could have had Trip as companion for this mission, it would have made things a lot easier. In part she really doesn't. But she can't say that.

"I don't mind undercover," she compromises.

"And the boss?"

"He minds it a bit more," she replies. Then she realizes that's a bit unkind. "But he's good at it."

"Of course he is."

There is something about Trip's inflection. Skye doesn't particularly feel like discussing this longer. Plus they've been here a while – she notices Trip has finished his coffee, while she has barely touched hers – and she doesn't want complications.

"We'd better hurry now," she tells him. "Imagine if someone from my neighborhood sees us here. They'd think Laura was cheating on Robert."

He leans back on his chair. "As if."

"Trip. What does that even mean?"

"I don't think you have to worry about anyone imagining you could cheat on Coulson, not even as a pretend identity."

"Is that a joke?" Skye asks, lowering her voice.

Trip raises an eyebrow, challenging her.

She widens her eyes.

"That's really inappropriate, Agent Triplett," she chastises.

"Or really accurate."

" _Director_ Coulson is my boss."

Trip just keeps on smiling, but he uses a more conspiratory, friendlier tone now.

"Don't tell me you are not enjoying _playing house_ , even just a little bit?"

She can feel a headache coming over.

"That's not the p– _No_. Trip. Of course I'm not."

He lets it go, reaching his hand across the table and giving Skye's forearm a little squeeze.

"Okay, it was just a joke," he says gently. "You two be careful. And be quick, we're getting rather bored without you in the base. We're basically sitting on our hands until you guys need us."

"Yeah, I imagine May must be going out of her mind."

"She's making our lives a hell." Skye smiles. "But she trusts you. We're all behind you."

"Thank you."

Trip nods, and stands up to leave.

Some days it just floors them, the feeling of having a team around her, having so many people who have her back, some days she is not used to it and has the feeling she might wake up tomorrow and find them gone from her life.

Mostly that's what she is thinking about on the way back. Mostly.

It was good seeing Trip, and hearing about the team face to face, but on the drive home (home! ha!) she can't help thinking about how he teased her. She has no doubts everyone in the team recognizes that Coulson is a priority in her life, but she wonders if someone believes it to be something other than the proper admiration of a subordinate towards her boss, or if Trip was just messing with her.

 

+

 

Skye has been acting weird since she came back from meeting Trip.

He's normally quite good at reading Skye's mood but he has no idea what this is about. Maybe she just misses the team. Being trapped at all hours with him all week can't have been all that fun.

He tries again. "The team is fine. Yes?"

"Yeah. A bit bored, Trip said. Running back-up in a mission like this one is not super exciting, I guess."

"That's true."

He guesses May is probably driving everyone up the walls.

He feels a bit guilty complaining about how slow things were going on this end.

"So," she says, a bit more cheerfully, taking a look at the couple of welcome-to-the-neighborhood cards still lying on the kitchen counter, a supremacy of beige, purple and orange. "How are we doing with the socializing?"

"The neighbors from across the street –"

"Lindsay and Josh? Oh god, how are we even going to remember names in this place? They all sound the same."

"Well, they have invited us for tea and a get-together with the rest of the community tomorrow."

At that Skye looks a bit more animated.

"About time," she says. "Great. I'll grab a couple of Fitz's surveillance cameras, see if I can manage to plant them."

"Mm-uh."

He still doesn't want to move too quickly. Something tells him these people might actually be dangerous. Skye seems to read his mind.

"Stop worrying," she tells him. "Our identities are solid. I even faked school records, they can find every grade you – well, Robert, ever got."

"And how did Robert do?"

"Not perfect. We wouldn't want these people to think you are too smart. Right?"

He smiles.

 

+

 

"Is that what you're wearing?" she points at the clothes Coulson has left lined on the bed.

"Suburban enough?"

"I'll say," she smiles. She is finishing getting dressed herself. Coulson had knocked on the door and then looked a bit surprised to see she was still putting on her shoes. She still is, this designer things with straps a bit of a new challenge for her. She's actually getting frustrated. "Don't worry, I'll get out of your hair in a moment."

"That's okay," he says, taking a seat on one of the chairs in front of her.

"If I ever get these on, that is... what the hell is wrong with...?"

Coulson clears his throat. She looks up.

"I think you have to..." he offers, pointing. "There's a buckle–" Skye frowns at him; he makes a gesture to get out of the chair. "May I help?"

Skye nods dumbly, not really knowing what that means or what he's asking. She understands once Coulson walks to her and kneels by her side, taking her foot in his hand. The sudden contact makes her lean back a bit, her palms flat on the bed, but she doesn't pull away.

"Uh, thank you. Apparently I'm an idiot who doesn't know how tiny buckles work."

Coulson smiles without looking at her, working the first shoe open. He coaxes her foot into it, pressing his fingers against the heel. Skye looks down at him, can't say she's not affected by the image, or the way he's holding her foot in his hand.

"I bet Robert does this for his wife all the time," she says, trying to put some distance.

"What, crawl on his knees?"

He means it as a joke, the tone light, but Skye doesn't miss its meaning. It makes her swallow, between the implication and the look on his face, focused on the task as hand, and the ghost touch of his fingers as they slip the leather strap pass the buckle.

Then he finishes and Skye has no time to explore her reaction any further.

"Thank you," she says, standing up even before he does. She tries it out, walking in these. They're new, which means they're not very comfortable, but they should do. "I'll let you change."

He nods, already grabbing his clothes, waiting for her to leave the room. She does.

She's not sure what just happened. She tries to explain the moment away, now that she's outside the bedroom. The Coulson she knows, her _boss_ , would nevr just kneel in front of her like that and basically put her shoes for her. Would he? Maybe he's settling in too easily into the role. Maybe she's the one making a fool of herself assuming there is something deeper than some old-fashioned undercover roleplay going on here. 

And she should be doing just that, concentrating on the mission. On this afternoon, for example. This is a good opportunity to asses the threat in the neighborhood, who might be hiding more than the usual suburban secrets.

 

+

 

What the hell was that show in the bedroom? Why would he kneel down like that, put those shoes on Skye like that? The level of unprofessional and wrong of that gesture is staggering and Coulson is _appalled_ at himself.

They have exchanged very few words on the walk to the neighbor's. Understandably. What she must be thinking about him. But Skye's stiffness disappears once they are in front of the house.

"Game face ready?" Skye asks before they ring the bell, slipping her arm casually around his.

_Game_ , Coulson reminds himself. It's just a game. A cover, and if they are playing it a little too well then all the better for the mission. Once the mission is over everything will be back to how it was before.

He puts on his best, fakest smile and follows Skye's lead.

They meet the rest of the community, except someone called Daniel, who is someone called Jenny's husband and who is on a long trip. Coulson tries to file away faces and names and he can tell, by the tiny furrow of concentration on her face, that Skye is doing the same. The way she tries so hard and thinks every little detail is important, well... it actually reminds Coulson of himself when he was her age.

Skye installs the first surveillance camera in the living room with such dexterity that Coulson finds himself thinking, not for the first time, that he's really glad she is one of the good guys and not the other thing. 

After a round of high end tea and boring move-in talk (someone actually asks him what are his plans for the garden and he tries to remember any of the officially authorized flowers) he sees Skye throwing curious glances at the second floor.

"I'm going to excuse myself to go to the bathroom," she whispers in his ear. "And do some more snooping."

She kisses his cheek as a see-you-in-a-moment gesture for the benefit of their new friends. The fakeness of it upsets Coulson, because he doesn't know how Skye is in a real relationship but he's pretty sure she wouldn't kiss the guy every time she leaves a room and if she did it wouldn't be such a meek, dispassionate affair. But perhaps he should not examine the situation so much, he reminds himself, and turns around to chat with the hosts and some other couple, Fletcher and Carol.

Skye was right. How are they supposed to remember these names?

He does his best to keep the conversation moving, smiling and smiling and playing the bumbling idiot with the hot wife. That's what the audience wants, anyway – he picked up that vibe the very first day.

But talking to this group is gruelling.

Forget hiding HYDRA operatives... is this what a normal life looks like? Coulson thinks. 

He's not sure how much more interest he can fake in hearing these people's stories about which upper class primary school they are sending their kids to, and which is the one with better college acceptance rate (it's just primary school, he wants to scream, but he guesses he has no idea about these matters, he would probably make a neglectful father for not worrying about college until his kid was seventeen) and he's not sure how much more fake smiling he can do and how much more vague he can get when asked if he and Sk– _Laura_ are planning to start a family soon. The question is starting to make him uncomfortable and he is glad Skye has gone upstairs to try and set up a second camera outside the bedroom.

And the fake smiling is _torture_. He's good at undercover, or that's what he always thought – but maybe it was just because he had never had to be in it for so long. Or maybe it's because he had never dealt with this WASP-filled landscape before. Eventually his fake smile is going to crack.

At some point he sees Nick Clarke walking up the stairs as well. He has a moment of panic, then he reminds himself Skye is good at this, she must have prepared for unforseen interruptions, have a pile of excuses ready. Still, it gives him a pretty good excuse.

"I'm going to find out why my wife is taking so much time powdering her nose," he tells the group as a way to escape, laughing to himself in the most ridiculous manner.

It still feels weird to use the word _wife_ and think about Skye at the same time. He feels guilty and that's just absurd. This is the job. That's all they're doing, their job.

 

+

 

When Coulson finds her at the top of the stairs she's still quite annoyed and, she hates to admit it, a bit shaken.

"Skye, what's wrong?" he asks her, noticing the relief on her face when she sees him.

Then she contemplates that it might be better if he doesn't know. Nothing has really happened and it could complicate things.

"Uh. Nothing. Let's go back downstairs."

She tries to walk away but he stops her, fingers curled around her elbow. It's not forceful but it's enough to know he means it. 

He's right of course. She shouldn't hide anything from him.

"Skye?"

"It's Nick," she tells him. " _Nick_ Clarke. I thought he had discovered me... snooping around the second floor. I managed to get a second camera right on that wall. But I didn't know if he had seen me. I pretended I didn't remember where the bathroom was and we started talking and Nick, well, let's say he showed some interest."

"Interest?"

She tries to be elliptic about it. "Yeah, interest. In becoming better acquainted. With me."

Coulson tilts his head to one side, then frowns, even though his expression is quite unreadable. "Did he –?"

She shakes her head.

"No, no, no way. He got suggestive and gross but not that."

Coulson nods, gives Skye a little appreciative smile in solidarity. 

"I've seen you on the mats with May, don't hold back."

That actually makes her feel better.

"You don't have to tell _me_. Undercover or not I'd kick his ass."

He seems pensive for a moment. It bothers her that he doesn't look surprised. But then again she should know better than to find what just happened unexpected. These people are just walking cliches and sooner or later they'd have to hit this particular one. She doesn't want to seem too affected in front of Coulson.

"Coulson..." she calls, whispering, in case someone might stumble upon her saying his real name. He turns around. "You're not going to do anything, right?"

"No," he replies. "But I was thinking what would _Robert Holden_ do. Or rather what these people would expect him to do. Does Nick think you are going to tell me what happened?"

She gives it a little head shake. "I acted surprised but not offended. I didn't want to – I didn't want to ruin the investigation, and these are the kind of people who would expect you to want a duel for my honor, ugh."

He nods again.

He offers his hand to her.

"Good call. Come on, let's get out of here."

"And tell them what?"

"You don't feel well. That's the traditional excuse, right?" He tries a tiny smile. "I don't feel like spending one minute more in this company. At least not tonight. I imagine you agree."

"Vigorously."

They walk down the stairs hand in hand.

 

+

 

When they get home (and after the afternoon they've had Coulson almost feels this is really _home_ , something separate and theirs) he lets himself fall on the couch with a tired growl.

He closes his eyes for a moment but he can feel Skye's glance on him.

"We should take the night off," she says.

"What do you mean? We're already home."

"Do something fun, to clear our minds." She can sense he is about to protest and she counters it. "A movie! We can watch a movie and just get lazy on the couch."

"I don't think–"

"Good, you shouldn't think. Come on, we've done enough spy work for one night. And it has been really, really sucky. We deserve a night off. Let's watch a movie. I know it's not exactly protocol but –"

"Okay," he cuts in, reacting, rebellious like a recruit, at the word _protocol_. "You pick the movie, I'll make us sandwiches."

 

+

 

_Sandwiches_ , in Coulson's world, are a very complicated affair, and he disappears into the kitchen for so long that Skye thinks he has forgotten all about the movie.

He didn't forget.

"Wow, this is pretty amazing," she tells him, attacking the brioche bun with pleasure. "Not very proper though – this is pretty indulgent. I love it."

"Thank you," he says. "It's not my recipe. Something I picked up in New Orleans. Mortadella, genoa salami, provone cheese and a bit of olive oil. It should have capicola too but I didn't have that here."

God, he's such a dork. But she kind of likes the idea that he bought a lot of stuff beforehand so he could make nice meals for the both of them.

"We should make you cook all the time in the Playground," Skye says.

"I don't think that's compatible with my obligations as Director of SHIELD."

"Then we should _demote_ you."

A startled chuckle tears free from the back of his throat. It's nice, because he has been understandably sour all night. Skye would also want to forget the afternoon and just laugh with him like this. She's a girl of humble ambitions, she knows, but that's pretty much it.

"Well, I'm glad you like it," he tells her quietly.

"I'm afraid you're spoiling me rotten here," she teases. "I won't want to go back to our normal life."

Coulson makes a weird face, but it only lasts a moment and Skye can't examine what it looks like.

"Should we start with the movie?" he asks, changing the subject rather inelegantly.

They end up watching _Klute_ because Coulson likes 70s cinema and Skye has never seen it but it sounds cool.

They sit pretty close on the couch (she thinks they are unconsciously drawn to each other tonight, as a team, after what went down at the neighbor's, and he wants to appease her, indulging her plans for a relaxing evening like this) and at first she feels uncomfortable with how suggestive and well, sexy, the movie gets, right off the bat. But then she gets really into the story and forgets about uncomfortable, simply enjoying the company.

Coulson is pretty worn out – no wonder, Skye thinks, nobody told him how tiring it is to fake-smile for hours on end – and falls asleep halfway the film, his head thrown back on the couch and tilted towards Skye. She smiles at his unusual relaxed face; even with his undercover clothes still on he doesn't look like Robert Holden. He doesn't exactly look like the Director of SHIELD either, not right now. Skye doesn't know what he looks like, but she likes it.

She wants to finish the movie so she puts a blanket over him and stays where she is, Coulson's even breathing next to her shoulder.

 

+

 

He hadn't realized how tired he'd been after the meeting with the neighbors.

When he opens his eyes again the movie is over and the tv is turned off. He's basically splayed on the couch, the cushion between his hands, and there is a moment of confusion where he doesn't know where Skye could have gone.

She's there, behind him, sitting at the table working, and he sees her as soon as he cranes his neck a bit.

"You're awake?" she says. "Good. I thought I'd have to carry you upstairs in my arms."

He grins at that.

"I've seen your arms lately. I've no doubt you could."

He doesn't know where the playful tone comes from, maybe he's still half-asleep.

Skye smiles brightly at him so it's not too bad.

"I've processed the images of the people in the reunion this evening. I'm trying to set up a database with all the people in the community, see what we can find searching and tagging."

He nods. This is why Skye needed to be on this mission.

"You said we were going to take the night off," he argues.

Skye closes the laptop. "Yeah, but you bailed on me, dear husband. I was bored."

"Sorry."

"We should go to bed now," she says, and it sounds less awkward than normally.

It sounds nice. 

(Nice, because Coulson tries not to think about the word _enticing_ , tries not to think about Skye like that, and he tries not to think about how much he likes the warmth in their shared bed)

He nods and follows her upstairs, to their already-routine. She uses the bathroom first and she is on her side of the bed by the time he himself finishes. But she is not lying on her side on the edge of the bed as usual. She's lying on her back, taking more space, and looking at the ceiling. 

After killing the lights Coulson copies her, lying on his back in the darkness. Their shoulders are touching.

"Coulson?"

"Yes?"

"About this evening..."

She stops. He doesn't want to think about it too much, but if she needs him to...

"Are you sure you are okay?" he asks, aware of how strange it feels to be talking like this, in the darkness.

He can feel her nod.

"I am. But... You know I only _pretend_ things don't bother me. Right?"

"I know," he tells her, and wonders if there was more to the story of Nick Clarke on top of the stairs than she let on.

"It's not – I know nothing happened. But I hated the way it made me feel. The way he made me feel." She pauses. "It has been some time since I've felt this way. It's not just him, it's all of them, the way they look at me. I guess working in SHIELD, being with you guys, I kind of forgot."

She really hates being around these people and now Coulson wonders if there's more to the story of her adoption into a wealthy neighborhood than she let on.

"Skye... these people harbor NeoNazi fugitives. They are the bad guys. And they don't know you. You shouldn't let what they think about you affect you."

"Yeah, I know _that_. But the thing is, I don't think Laura Holden is a horrible person, and I think she deserves better than this." Coulson can't help it, he laughs. Skye turns on her side to look at him, annoyed. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he says and he, too, turns on his side to look at Skye's face up close. Quite up close. "I was just thinking that's very much like you to feel empathy for a fictional persona you created."

"Don't make fun."

"I'm not."

"Then I'll take it as a compliment."

"It is. And I'm glad you've learned to take compliments better these days."

Skye frowns at him. "Don't profile me, Director. At least not while we are in this house alone. Definitely not when we are here in the same bed. It makes me feel at a disadvantage."

"I apologize," he tells her honestly, running his fingers along the length of Skye's arm. He wonders if he really is half-asleep after all, because he should know better than to touch her when they are, as she said, in the same bed.

She smiles at him but she seems to consider the conversation done because she turns on her back, making him take away his hand.

"Good night, Robert."

"Good night, Laura."

 

+

 

The next morning they sleep until later than normally and Skye would feel guilty about lingering, but the truth is she needs it, feeling this safe for a moment, even if it's just a sad right-after-dawn fleeting moment when the bed is at just the right temperature. They are not even touching but Coulson's presence, how her half-sleeping body can tell there's someone else in bed with her, and how it is okay, is enough for her to feel better already, to forget all about the previous day. So she lingers. And when Coulson finally climbs out of bed to prepare for his morning jog, Skye spreads her arms and legs, chasing the warmth he's left behind on the bedsheets. She will feel guilty about it later. For now she just needs it.

 

+

 

Nick Clarke doesn't show up for jogging the next day. No wonder. 

Coulson feels angry, because the whole thing is so pedestrian. This is how some people live their lives, this is the kind of low level maliciousness that goes on behind these pastel-painted closed doors.

But he has a job to do, and he can't let it show he knows anything.

Which doesn't stop him from destroying his jogging companions this morning (who are pretty indistinguishable, Josh and Bernard, or Bernard and Josh, he really can't tell) and it's a good opportunity to judge their athletic qualities, see if they seem to be who they say. He's good at this, Coulson thinks, this is what he is good at.

After the exercise they stop at the green common patch at the center of the neighborhood, Coulson's companions panting pathetically and passing the bottle of energy drink back and forth.

"You're quite competitive," Josh or Bernard says. Coulson fears he might have pushed it too far. "No, don't apologize, it's a nice change. All in all you two are a breath of freash air."

"Definitely, definitely," Bernard or Josh agrees.

"Well, we like it here," Coulson says, rather half-assedly.

"And we like you here."

"And Laura, she's just a wonder."

He can tell where this conversation is going and he doesn't like it.

"Yeah, she is," he is, hoping his partners notice his disinterest in discussing his wife in public.

They don't.

"And a very welcome exotic touch to the neighborhood."

Okay, he didn't think the conversation was going to go there.

"Exotic," Coulson repeats, quite stunned.

"Yes. I mean I love Kara."

"And I love Lindsay."

"But we've been at this game longer than you. Believe us, pal."

"And they are not the most adventurous women in the world to begin with."

"I'm afraid you've lost me," Coulson tells them.

"Come on. How long have you been married?" Josh (he's pretty sure it's Josh) asks.

"A little over a year," he replies.

The other two men look at each other and then back at Coulson, lips pursed in amusement. No, Coulson thinks, this is not a conversation you want to have with me today. 

" _Honeymoon_."

"Is it true what they say about Asian girls? That they'd let you do anything, literally anything?"

"I –"

"Look at him blush. No wonder he gets so competitive. Laura must keep him in good shape. Right, Rob?"

Conspiratory chuckles and a joking elbow to his ribs.

Coulson quirks his mouth at them, trying to smile, trying not to choke on his own bile.

 

+

 

Skye waits for Coulson to come out of the shower – he went straight after his usual jogging-cum-spying session, acting weirdly laconic. He comes back, walking down the stairs with the same sour look on his face, toweling his wet hair.

"What?" he asks when he catches Skye looking at him.

Very professional, she thinks, rolling her eyes at herself and settling back in work mode.

"I'm going to put a couple of bugs in Josh's and Lindsay's," she tells him. "Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. You keep watch."

He nods, looking around and running scenarios in his mind, like he usually does. She can count on him for that, for the safety net of having thought out every little variation of how a plan can go wrong, or right.

"Are you going to break in?"

She smirks. "There's a reason why I'm on this mission," she says. "Plus I've got Fitz's gadget just made for the occasion."

That seems to be enough for him and they grab their things and start towards the row of houses across them them.

And everything goes well for about fourteen minutes – Skye really feels like in a spy movie for the first time, using all the equipment to set up a bug in the living room and another in the terrace, because she knows Josh and Lindsay often like to entertain guests there. But when she is about to come around to the front she sees Lindsay strolling down the street; she must have cut the walk with the dog short today for some reason, Skye realizes.

She starts thinking about a plan b, a plan c even, but fortunately she doesn't need to. She sees Coulson making a beeline towards the woman and then proceeding to engage her with some idle chat. Bless. Sometimes she forgets she has a team. Skye breathes out, trusting Coulson to pump up the charm as he does – Lindsay Wexler looks only too pleased to stop and have a talk with her new neighbor. She notices the way she is smiling, the way Coulson is smiling. But Skye has more pressing matter at hand – like getting _the hell_ out of here.

 

+

 

When he comes back to the house Skye is already there, on the kitchen counter. He saw her leave the neighbor's from the corner of his eye but still, it's good to see she's back and out of danger. He doesn't really like covert operations, and he doesn't like things he can't control, thing going on out of his sight. He would have preferred to be the one setting the bugs, but he had to admit Skye was better at stealthy, after all her training with May. And better at improvising.

"I finished like half an hour ago," she is saying. "I thought you were just going to flirt the day away."

There's something accusatory in the tone.

"What? I was trying to give you a good margin."

"And doing a great job of it, too."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He sees Skye's shoulders relax. She stands up from the stool and fixes him an amused glance. 

"Come on, I saw how you were being with Lindsay Wexler. Careful or you'll get a reputation in this neighborhood."

"I'm trying to fit in, do my job." And yes, he does sound a bit too defensive, even to himself.

Skye's smile doesn't falter.

"Sure, but you flirt all the time, somebody might take you seriously. You wouldn't want to give them false hopes."

There's something about the choice of words.

Coulson ignores it. "I don't flirt _all the time_."

Skye snorts.

"I mean, I've seen y – I've seen _Robert_ and he's an incorregible flirt."

He feels a strange pang of guilt he's not sure where it comes from. "Is he? He didn't think that would bother his wife."

She walks around the table, stopping to stand in front of him.

"It doesn't," she tells him, putting her hands in her pockets and looking away for a moment. " _She_ finds it kind of sexy, actually. That is, if she were completely sure that he's mad about her... she wouldn't mind."

There's something about that line, too, something Coulson feels is reeling him in and he should watch it before saying something he regrets.

So he pulls back.

"But at least you managed to slip the camera in," he comments.

Skye looks disappointed, but she recovers quickly, walking away from him and back to her work station.

"Yes," she says. "I don't think the Wexlers are the brains of the operation but maybe we'll be lucky and get something out of them."

"Your money is still on Nick and Sylvia."

"Yes. He seems to be the _jefe_ of the community, in more ways than one."

Coulson has learned to trust Skye's instinct on these matters. His own insticts agree on this case.

"Then we'll have to find some excuse to get into their house."

He sees Skye look down at her feet for a moment, then feign concentration on the computer screen, something tense about the manner in which she draws her shoulders back.

"Well..." she says, and it takes a bit for her to meet Coulson's eyes.

"What?"

"Well, I guess if he thought I was actually interested..."

"No," he cuts her, walking around the counter, closer to her. "We're undercover but we are not spies, Skye. No one is going to ask that you put yourself in any kind of uncomfortable situation. Not like that."

Skye gives him a little smile, like she's relieved.

"Phew. I was afraid you'd say yes. I'm committed to SHIELD, you know that, and if it were a life or death situation I guess... but I'm not _that_ committed."

He shakes his head, eager to cut this conversation short.

"Skye. No one is going to ask you to. That's what the bad guys would do. We're not the bad guys. Not anymore."

He feels a bit like a hypocrite, because he himself signed off on missions where they were asking something along the lines of what Skye is suggesting – the fact that he never felt okay about it or that it's the sort of thing that contributed to his extremely _brief_ stint as Natasha Romanoff's handler makes no difference, he never argued against the validity of those tactics. He tries to think about it as him trying to do better now, trying to atone. This is not just about Skye, it's about every agent who came before her and deserved better from the likes of him.

"Okay, but I'll figure a way to get him," Skye tells him, resolved, because of course she would.

"I know you will," he says, because of that he has no doubt.


	3. roleplay

"Good job on letting the neighbors win," Skye tells him, once they are alone in the club's terrace.

"How can you tell I let them win?" Coulson asks her.

There's a film of sweat all over his face but he's breathing evenly. Of course she could tell - of course they are in much better shape than these people, for all their obsession with going to the club every couple of days and the gym and the jogging and the healthy diet. Coulson and her, they are SHIELD agents, and while it took Skye a bit to pick the whole tennis thing up it seemed like Coulson had played before, and she could tell he was hiding his real skills, not just his real stamina.

"Please, Coulson, you can't fool me."

The waitress comes back with their drinks. Skye attacks them with perhaps less finesse than her undercover persona would use. She doesn't care, between the match and the dry desert air her throat feels on fire

"Playing good enough that we will be popular among the other, but not _too well_ or they'll hate us for it," Coulson says. "Those were your words."

"I'm glad to know you can follow orders," she teases him.

He gives her a relaxed, complacent grin. Not what you'd expect from the Director fo SHIELD when he's just been told to follow the orders of a subordinate, something else. Skye just leans back in her chair and enjoys it.

So far this is probably the funnest they've had since arriving.

The tennis game was fun, even though they had to let the others win. Coulson in tennis clothes is definitely not a bad sight, if Skye is being selfish.

"I don't think Robert and Laura are much of a tennis couple, though," she says, looking around at the rest of the couples filling the courts. They have the right clothes and they attitude but they are not playing the same game as the rest of these people.

Coulson looks curious. "No?"

"No. And I don't think they fit in very well here, either."

"If we are doing our jobs properly they should."

"Not necessarily," Skye informs him. "Everybody loves a bit of an outsider - hell, even you do or you wouldn't have offered me a job in the first place. Not rebellious enough that the system would be in danger, but _different_ enough that it's appealing. Exotic."

Coulson makes a strange face at the word.

"You've thought about this," he comments after a moment.

"Look at us. We could never play the regular, white-picket fence couple. We just don't look the part. It's not realistic that we try to be like everybody else in this place. But we can play something else, something these people still want in their community."

"You would make a good profiler," he tells her.

Skye bites her lower lip, regarding him with a playful look. "I thought we were just playing tennis."

"Robert and Laura were just playing tennis."

"And there's no blurred lines here whatsoever. Right?"

She knows she shouldn't push. Something might snap. She's not sure that's a totally unwelcome thought, though. Something between them snapping. Finally.

 

+

 

The nice mood of the morning doesn't last that long.

First Jenny and Sylvia find them having their post-match drinks and insist they join them for a light lunch at the club. 

And they are in no position to refuse (as much as he'd like to just idle a couple of hours away with Skye, alone), everything might be a good opportunity.

It's a bit uncomfortable for him; he wants to feel sympathy for Sylvia, but then he remembers she's probably complicit in aiding HYDRA fugitives, and maybe even in the death of the two ex-SHIELD agents.

After a bit he relaxes, even enjoying the chat, settling in his Robert persona and making a conscious decision to stop trying so hard – Skye is not the only one who knows people, he realizes the more he puts these people at ease the more likely they are to give up important information. It's about gaining their trust and Skye's arched eyebrow at some point translates into "pump up the charm" perfectly, he can almost hear her voice. So he follows her orders.

Coulson can't help but exchange amused looks with Skye every time one of the others says something surrealist (like, really, he has no plans for the garden, why is everybody so enthralled with his potential plans for the garden) and he can't help but grin at the faces Skye is pulling when the other women are not looking – not at them, though, mainly at the menu the waiter is reading them, which seems a bit over the top for a private tennis club.

"Oh, come on," Jenny protests at some point. "Stop it with the making eyes at each other and the hand-holding."

Sylvia gives Coulson a stern look.

Skye doesn't miss a beat, though. She takes Coulson's hand in hers and brings it upon the table, lacing their fingers playfully. "What hand-holding? _This_ hand-holding?"

Jenny and Sylvia laugh approvingly. Skye doesn't let go of his hand for the rest of the lunch.

The rest of the lunch is cut short when it starts raining.

"I thought it never rained in the Southwest?" Skye says over the cracking noise of the storm over their heads.

"Really?"

"It's the middle of summer!"

"Really?!"

He smiles at her and hands her his jacket to protect herself from the rain. 

Not that it's of much use, as their car is parked on the other side of the club (they are the newbies without parking privileges just yet) and by the time they get it inside it they are both drenched. Coulson realizes they didn't say goodbye to Sylvia and Jenny, they just started running together under the rain. Well, he thinks, more for that rebellious image Skye says is not that bad.

"Was that Robert or Director Coulson?" she asks, pointing at the jacket over her shoulders. She has been pushing him all day (all week, perhaps); at least she knows he doesn't mean to reply. He just stares at her for a dangerous, wet strands of hair stuck to her temple and her cheeks. She smiles. "Either way, _thank you_."

 

+

 

By the time they get to the bedroom they are dripping, a mess. She can't stop smiling at the picture they must make, with their damp tennis clothes, caught by a summer storm.

Coulson has picked a package from the front door.

"Nick sent us this bottle of wine," he tells Skye, unwrapping it.

"Interesting."

"Probably feels guilty."

Skye makes a grimace of disgust. Coulson must know how she feels because he makes the same face.

"Hey, I'm not above letting pigs like him try to buy me with expensive wine."

" _Really_ expensive," he says, now that he looks at it, impressed.

"Is it good wine?" she asks.

"Yes, it is."

"Good. Then get us a couple of glasses while I take a quick shower. You should change, too."

She lingers in the bathroom, wondering what Coulson is doing meanwhile. She heard him go downstairs for some glasses and then come back to the room. She heard him start undressing. This is the strangest bit of their undercover arrangement, taking a shower while she knows Coulson is just on the other side of this very door, changing his clothes as well. 

When she comes out, wearing only the bathrobe, Coulson has thrown on some dark trousers and a blue shirt, more Coulson-like than Robert-like, which she prefers, sitting on one of the chairs, the bottle and the glasses in his hands. It's a bit disorienting. She throws him a towel for his wet hair.

"Thanks."

She jumps on the bed, playfully. pretending it's the most natural thing in the world. It's feels weird to be in front of Coulson with just the robe and her underwear. But it also makes her feel bold somehow, like she could do anything. He looks like he is about to say something but then he doesn't.

"So," she says. "Shall we pour us a drink?"

 

+

 

He makes them wait until the wine has warmed up a bit, trying to get the perfect temperature for this particular vintage.

"So tell me one thing. How does one learn how to tell if a wine is good?" she is asking.

For some reason he feels compelled to tell her the truth.

"Like everything else in life. You learn by drinking it."

Skye doesn't miss the flirtatious tone.

"Mm. Does Robert Holden know about wine?"

He hands her the glass. That's when he realizes how close they are, her on the bed and he on the chair. And how few clothes she's wearing.

"A bit. He likes to show off in front of Laura, pretend he knows more than he actually does."

"And Laura of course knows he's just bluffing, but she likes that he thinks he has to impress her." A pause. "What about _Phil Coulson_?"

He takes a sip of his drink.

"Phil Coulson doesn't need to work to impress anyone. He's very impressive per se."

Skye laugh-snorts. "I meant does he know about wine."

"Yes. Extensively."

"Why?"

"Why? That's a weird question. Because I enjoy nice things."

"We all enjoy nice things. But we don't all enjoy dinners in five star hotels." He looks away. "Sorry, I didn't mean –"

"No, you're right. Maybe I should profile myself, find out why I like good wine." 

He has no doubt Skye has her own theories, and they're probably right, that's why he doesn't want to discuss this with her tonight. She changes the subject, she must sense she's not getting anywhere with that.

"Why does Robert want to impress Laura, even though he knows she can tell?"

"Maybe he worries he's not her type," he replies without thinking.

Skye snorts, like she wants to laugh at the audacity. He can see her whole body vibrate with the gesture, the little tremblors insinuated under the robe. 

"Well, Laura doesn't think she's Robert's type," she says. " _Didn't_ , I mean. Before they got together. She wasn't sure he'd like her."

He feels exposed, because he knows Skye can see the gears turning, she can see the precise moment he decides to run away from this.

"The backstory you made up for our characters, it didn't have that many details... Not that you told me, at least."

"You and I are both very good at improvising," she says.

Coulson doesn't know if there's a second meaning behind that affirmation. He has begun wondering if there's a hidden meaning behind everything they say to each other these days.

"We met through your work, I heard you tell Sylvia."

"Yeah. You had recently bought a car but you didn't like the insurance they offered at the car place. I do that, car insurance. Laura does, anyway."

"What kind of car did I buy?"

She smirks. "A Corvette, of course."

"Must have been a pretty good commission."

"Yes! And I told you that I was going to use that commission to invite you to dinner."

"Very forward," he comments, realizing he's just doing the flirting thing again. He can't stop.

"Robert likes that Laura is foward."

Skye leans back a bit, hands each side of her, and the gesture makes the robe slip open just a bit, revealing a bit more of Skye's naked legs. Coulson tries not to notice it – if he does (and he's not saying he does) it's not him, it's Robert noticing his wife's legs.

"Haven't your jogging buddies asked how we met already?"

"They're not exactly about the romance," he says, halway a groan.

A mistake, because he thinks Skye can tell what he meant.

"Oh?" Skye leans forward now, her legs still in view, but now his head closer to his, and Coulson wonders why the hell he pushed his chair so close to the bed. He could reach out and just touch her. And that's not a good thought. "They surprise me, though. Such a puritanical community. I would have thought they'd frown at your behavior."

"My behavior?"

"Showing up with someone like me at your arm."

There's an unsual drawl to her voice.

Coulson shrugs. He's uncomfortable with the implications he knows Skye is not intending but he can't stop thinking about. It would be taking advantage of her. All of it. Any move he would make, any hesitation, it would be taking advantage of her. Of _Skye_.

"People forgive a lot from a widower," he says, low and serious. "Even taking beautiful, way-too-young wives."

She blinks. He really said it without thinking. She leans closer. He can see the curve of her neck connecting to her shoulder perfectly, the robe slipping a bit with the gesture.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asks, wide-eyed.

What can he do but backtrack.

"I think... Robert thinks his wife is beautiful, of course."

"But the _way-too-young_ part is all yours. Right, Director?" 

She sounds playful but also angry. It's a dangerous combination.

"Skye..."

She narrows her eyes. "Laura."

"I don't think Laura would play these games with Robert."

She leans closer. "Oh, I think she would. She definitely would. Wasn't that why he took a too-young, beautiful wife? To do this?"

She leans over and takes his hand. He has no earthly idea why he lets her. He lets her. She takes his hand and places it on her thigh, under the fabric of her robe. Coulson is surprised by how hot her skin feels under his fingers. 

"I don't think–" he tries to start.

"No, you shouldn't. Think, that is."

Skye gives him a stunning smile but he can see the cracks in it, the measure of certainty that he is going to reject her. And he _is_ going to reject her, but that smile makes him put it off for a moment because he doesn't want to do that to her just yet.

"Yeah, I saw you," Skye tells him. "Or you think a wife wouldn't notice when her husband is looking at her naked legs?"

He feels vertigo at the speed things have taken.

"Skye..."

"Okay, _Coulson_ then. I prefer it that way, in any case."

He tries to take his hand away but Skye covers it with hers, keeping it there. He is trapped between the warmth of her thigh and the wamrth of her palm. He is trapped. He can feel how much warmer it would feel to touch her right above where his hand is now. He can't stop thinking about that.

It takes all he has not to slide his hand further up. It takes all he has to pull his hand away from her warm thigh.

Skye frowns at him when he does, but she doesn't stop him this time.

What lie is he going to try and sell her? He wonders that himself.

"We have been drinking. Perhaps we should stop the game before we might do something we regret."

"I haven't finished my first drink," she points out, leaning into him in a way that Coulson is horribly sure she's about to kiss him. "And neither have you. If you are going to use an excuse you'll have to do better than that."

For some reason he feels compelled to tell her _the truth_.

"I'm scared," he breathes out, his face close to hers.

Skye looks like someone just slapped her. Every muscle in her body (he can see too well and too close) tenses up in the split of a second. He would feel guilty if he weren't busy feeling terrified.

"That's... not an excuse," she tells him, voice going soft and full of worry, and already moving to stand up from the bed. "That's actually a pretty good reason to stop. I'm so sorry. I'll go put on some clothes."

His hand reaches for her a second too late, she's already walking away, Skye never sees the gesture.


	4. be honest

She didn't go to bed last night. How could she, really, after _that_? She felt guilty enough for pushing him that hard, she wasn't about to force her presence in his bed. At least not the very same night. She had done him harm enough. She has to protect her dignity, too, after making such a fool of herself for no good reason.

And she has to apologize, she _has to_ , but she is not sure she can.

When she hears Coulson walk down the stairs Skye takes a moment to put on her best neutral face before focusing on the computer again. She does this breathing trick May taught her. So that at least the shame she feels for what she did doesn't show on her face when he looks at her.

Coulson walks around the kitchen counter until he is in front of her. He walks slowly, heavily, and of course his expression is unreadable. Skye would prefer if he were angry at her. 

"Good morning," she says, a little belated, and as casual as it would go. Coulson's good at playing the everything-is-normal game, she can just as well try her hand.

Except Coulson looks like he is about to start with yesterday's events and she can't let him.

"Sorry there's no coffee," she says quickly, filling any kind of silence he might take advantage of. "I'll make a fresh pot. I've been working for hours."

He hesitates, studying her face, but in the end he seems to get the signal.

"On what?" he asks.

"Pulling the Clarkes' credit card records, and then Nick's employees' credit card records, and then their families' ..."

"I get it."

His expression is kind and no, Skye definitely wouldn't prefer it if he was angry with her. She prefers him like this. She kind of remembers why she had wanted last night to happen and she feels horrible all over again.

She lets her shoulders slump a bit, relaxing slightly.

"At first I thought no one would be so careless but... you follow money trail after money trail and interesting patterns start to appear, if you know _how_ to look at them. Like this." She turns the computer around so he can see what she's talking about. "A truck is going to pull up at their house next week – supposedly Nick has bought new furniture for the games room, but I think they're moving something else, or someone."

Coulson thinks about it.

She knows it's pretty much a job of guessing at this point but she has a hunch. And her hunches have been traditionally right, Coulson should know that. It had been Skye's original hunch that they were using the wine cellar to hide the HYDRA agents until the new papers came and she is sticking to it. 

And eventually Coulson nods his head, buying into it as a working theory at least.

"Good job," he says, trying a bit too hard.

She smiles at him, trying hard as well. "It's not done yet. We need to install some surveillance equipment in that damn cellar first and we need to do it before the 9th."

"That could prove a problem."

She thought about it as well (she didn't get much sleep). She leans over the kitchen counter. "Not if vivacious, pushy Laura keeps pestering Sylvia to throw one of her legendary parties in the Clarke's house this weekend. I mean, they'd want to be good hosts before they new _tenant_ arrives."

Coulson looks at her, pleasantly impressed, and for a moment Skye believes that everything could be back to normal.

 

+

 

He meets May in the city, outside an office Skye rented in Robert Holden's name, pretend he's meeting a new client.

To be honest, he's happy to be out of the house for a bit, specially _now_. He has no idea what he is going to do about what happened the other night. He'd rather sit here drinking coffee with May and talk mission details. That he knows how to do.

He needed this. And it's May, he's always happy to see her.

He tells her to keep the team on call, that things are finally moving – he didn't say it but he's pretty sure Skye's hunch about the wine cellar is spot on. He hesitates to trust his gut where the Clarkes are concerned but he felt something was off about them, about the way they behave in front of him and Skye. He's not sure anyone in the community is innocent (or maybe he doesn't want them to be innocent) but he's betting on Skye's horse.

"You seem distracted," May tells him.

He was counting on the comfort of a friendly face that didn't make him nervous, an uncomplicated moment among all the complications with Skye, he was not counting on May's bullshit radar.

"No," he tells her. "I'm just ready to finish the mission."

"So how's married life treating you?" she teases. "I could give you some pointers."

Coulson feels tempted to tease her back, point out that for all that experience hers ended in a divorce – but he wouldn't want to open old wounds, he's just glad she feels comfortable enough to make a joke out of it in front of him, after all this time. May seems different these days, a good kind of different.

"Thank you, we're managing."

"That's not what your face is telling me."

He sighs. It might feel good to get some of it out of his chest.

"It's... _messy_."

May tilts her head and for a moment Coulson is frighteningly sure she can tell exactly what has been going down in that house.

"But you are progressing on the mission."

Yes, mostly thanks to Skye.

"Yes," he says. A pause. "Mostly thanks to Skye."

She arches an eyebrow. "Is that the problem?"

"I never said there was a problem."

"You were worried about this job before it even started."

He fixes her a questioning look. "What does that mean?"

"You have a tendency to think something will go wrong and then _make it happen_ ," May tells him. Then smiles. "Sir."

"That's me?"

She smiles benevolently.

"Yes, Phil. Fortunately you don't often think something will go wrong." He nods. "How's she doing?"

He gives May a knowing smile. "I'm sorry. I'm not making things easy for her."

"No, I didn't imagine you would," she says.

What's that supposed to mean? Coulson wonders, but he's afraid to ask, in case May replies honestly.

"Is she still doing her morning exercises?" May asks.

Coulson grins, thinking about Skye's stubborn discipline, even while undercover. "Every day."

"Good. It wouldn't be right if she's just here to play house with you."

Coulson knows better than to give her the satisfaction of seeing him choke at that.

 

+

 

"You make such a cute couple," Jenny Musgrave tells Skye with a hint of surprise in her voice, once she is alone with her and Sylvia in the terrace.

This time Skye feels herself tensing up. She would have preferred not to have to play the lovestruck marriage in public so soon after the debacle of the other night.

But Jenny's husband Daniel has come back from overseas and the neighborhood is making a fuss about it, inviting her and Coulson for a greet-and-meet. They didn't have much say in the matter. Coulson had to do the arm-over-the-shoulder thing and she had to do the smiling-adoringly thing even though she's pretty sure neither of them were in the mood.

Now she's left Coulson alone in the living room, with the rest of the men (they tend to separate the conversations by genders right after coffee, Skye has noticed this) while Daniel shows them a couple of items he picked up in Borneo, to furnish the room. Skye watches Coulson's struggling smile through the glass; she'd feel guilty about leaving him there, but he also looks rather cute trying not to roll his eyes at these people.

"I thought you quit," Sylvia says to Jenny when she sees her light a cigarette.

"No, just inside the house. I can smoke outside."

"So," Sylvia turns to Skye. "What's the deal with you and Robert?"

"What deal?"

"Sure, financial risk analysts make a lot of money, I give you that, but you look genuinely happy with him. I don't get it."

For a moment Skye wonders if she has been made, if Sylvia can see through the charade and is trying to taunt her with this kind of comments. Skye shrugs, for the moment, choosing to act as if this was for real and these women are just commenting on the apparent quality of her marriage and not trying to weed a spy out.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she says. "He's my husband, the point is being happy when I'm with him."

Their smiles are patronizing but that's better because it means they don't suspect her of being SHIELD, they just suspect her of being a naive brat in her first year of marriage.

"Why him?" Sylvia asks.

"What do you mean, why him?"

"You're hot and young, Laura, you should enjoy that," she points out. "I bet you've had your fair share of _suitors_."

"Well, yeah, actually, but..." She's not lying. Coulson is just right there through the window, talking Asian art with Daniel. It seems like he has taken hold of the conversation somehow and his expression has become more energetic, or at least more interested. Skye smiles. "Robert sees me as I am and he likes it. And he lets me see him, which he doesn't do often with other people. It's just... good."

Sylvia and Jenny exchange a look.

"No, that's too philosophical," Sylvia says, giving Skye a friendly slap on the arm.

"Yeah, we were asking if he had a big dick or something like that."

"Jen!"

They laugh.

Oh, right, suburban life, Skye remembers now. She gives the other two women a slow, lopsided smirk. These people are so going down, if she has any say in the matter.

"So," she says. "When am I going to be able to enjoy one of your legendary parties, Sylvia? Please, tell me it's gonna be soon."

 

+

 

Skye has been quiet all evening, after coming back from the Musgraves'. It was awkward doing the happy couple routine right now but somehow they've survived it. They've talked a bit about their neighbors' possible involvement – if Daniel's recent trip and absence from the community has anything to do with the HYDRA operation, or even the disappearance of the two ex-SHIELD agents.

She took to the task immediately, examining travel arrangements and ariport security cameras. Mostly it's a thankless job.

She's spent hours on that.

But at some point during the evening Coulson realizes Skye is not working as much as killing time, sitting on the couch, lazily thumbing through lists of passengers. He remembers that she didn't sleep in the bed with him last night, or the previous one, after everything, and it has been bothering him all day.

"Are you going to sleep in the bed tonight?" he asks her when he stands up to leave for the night.

Skye draws her knees below her chin, avoiding his gaze for a moment. 

Then she looks up at him; big, brown, guilty eyes fixed on his.

"I don't want to do something wrong again," she tells him.

"You haven't done anything wrong," he tells her. "I'm the senior agent here."

"But I –"

"Come on," he gestures. "Let's go up."

 

+

 

She's always very careful not to move during the night. She was used to it anyway.

All the days they've been here Skye has been great at that.

This is probably the worst possible moment to find herself waking up with one arm thrown over Coulson's waist, and her cheek pressed against his shoulder, like this is one of those cliche scenes in a movie. It takes Skye a moment to remember exactly where she is, how things are, and she just follows the warmth, a content little sigh escaping her lips. That wakes her up, because she fears Coulson might have heard her.

She opens her eyes slowly and asesses the situation.

She remembers how things are.

Coulson is on his back, snoring softly, while at some point during the night Skye has rolled to his side and drapped herself over him. She forces herself not to instinctively move to get away, because that would definitely wake him up.

She could try to disentangle herself but she's not sure how she'll manage to disentagle herself, because Coulson has her hand trapped under his.

She decides the only safe strategy here is to stay still, wait until Coulson wakes, and pretend she's fast asleep. It's risky and dishonest, she knows, and she doesn't know how long she'll have to wait.

Not much, seems to be the answer.

Coulson stirs awake little by litte, not all of the sudden. First he turns on his side, effectively drapping his arm across Skye's stomach, holding her to him like the most natural thing in the world. Skye wonders if this is what it would be like, to be in a relationship with Phil Coulson and get to wake up next to him in the morning. But that kind of thinking never did her any good. Still half-asleep Coulson rolls his hips against her side with an unmistakeable sound of relief. She can feel his erection pressed against her hipbone. She wills herself not to tense up and give up the fiction that she's asleep. And she feels like a horrible person for liking the feeling of it, for wanting to push back against him.

Eventually Coulson does wake up entirely and his whole body freezes the moment he realizes his arms and legs are curled around Skye's body.

The moment seems to stretch forever – or at least it does for Skye – until he manages to roll on his back, putting some space between their bodies. It's only after a while that Skye feels the matress move and hears Coulson scurry into the bathroom.

 

+

 

He makes breakfast, concentrates on making it a good, elaborate one, while trying not to think about the bedroom scene this morning.

Waiting for Skye to arrive, mostly.

Dreading it.

You're an adult, he tells himself. This shouldn't even begin to bother him.

Except that's pretty sure that what he just did would be grounds for his demotion – if SHIELD wasn't a semi-rouge organization with little time so far to worry about that sort of protocol. Not just the protocol, he would _deserve_ it. If this were old SHIELD he'd already be in Barrow, Alaska. Well, he's the Director now, he can still send himself there. He's an incompetent superior and a horrible person.

When Skye comes down Coulson watches her face in search of any sign that she is aware of what happened this morning. He's not entirely sure. Her eyes are distant. He's normally excellent at reading Skye's reactions, but this is something for which he has no previous data to compare. She could be pretending. She could just be ignorant that he woke up with her in his arms and liking it a little too much. Or she could be trying to be senstitive, that's very Skye. Or she could be totally disgusted and not saying anything, that's also very Skye. The other night she said she wanted him, but she could have been confused, playing, playing a role. It could have been just a thing of the moment. It doesn't mean she appreciates waking up to her fifty year old boss pressing his hard-on against her leg. No one would appreciate that.

Skye could be thinking a million different things and he would have no way of knowing.

He can only watch her face as she thanks him for the plate of food.

She ignores him for a moment while she checks her laptop.

"We got an e-vite from the wonderful Clarkes," she tells him.

"A party?" he asks, weakily.

Whatever Skye knows or feels she seems to have chosen not to approach it.

"In their house."

"You did it."

She shrugs. "Well, it's not done yet. I mean, thanks but. We have to actually do the thing."

He doesn't predict that's going to be easy.

 

+

 

"Don't worry, these shoes I can put on my own," she says and laughs to herself, rather awkwardly, while she puts on her black shoes.

The zipper on the dress was a bit tricky (this is not something Skye would normally wear, she doesn't know how to) and under normal circumstances she would have probably asked Coulson to do it and she would have teased him about it. These are not normal ciscumstances.

Under normal circumstances she would probably appreciate and even enjoy the fact that Coulson is wearing a stupid tuxedo and standing just there in the doorway looking at her wearing a stupid red dress.

"Everything all right with the plan?" he asks, arms crossed.

"There's not much to the plan itself," she says. "Find an opening, get the cameras in, get out, pretend we enjoy the boringass party."

"We only get one shot at this," he reminds him.

"I know that."

"Sorry. We could still get them. You found that truck. There are alternatives."

She appreciates his effort but the ideal situation would be gathering proof of conspiracy. It relaxes her a bit, actually, being able to focus on the mission – it relaxes her, the fact that she nervous about something other than Coulson.

 

+

 

This is a proper party and Skye's dress is... a complication.

This is a proper party with guests and catering and _wine_. It definitely feels like a movie, the way Skye will have to get downstairs to the cellar and install camera and bugs.

For the first half hour or so they just do the couple routine.

She laughs constantly at his jokes and runs her hand teasingly over his lower back.

He can tell she's nervous, though. He hasn't helped much on that front. The mission is hard enough as it is. He still hasn't apologized for that. May was right, he was never going to make this easy.

The whole neighborhood is here, all twenty or so couples. They spend an hour or so making conversation, thanking the hosts for organizing this, admiring the decoration. It's gruelling work but it's easy. They've been doing this for two weeks. They have this part down. Skye is still a bit stiff, though, a bit mechanical in her charm. He can tell she feels the weight of the whole mission on her back. Coulson puts his hand between her shoulder-blades, pressing his thumb into the knotted muscles for comfort.

Skye turns to him. "Thanks," she smiles.

It goes a bit smoother after that. She is good at pretending she's drinking more than she actually is and Coulson wonders where she picked up that trick, would want to hear the story sometime.

They are looking for the opposite of a lull in the party and there's a bit of extra animation when Sylvia and Nick bring out the second batch of hors d'ouvre. Coulson thinks: this is it. He grabs Skye by the elbow and pulls her aside.

"This seems like a good opening," he says. "You head down to the cellar. I'll keep watch."

She looks at him with a bright smirk.

"I feel like Ingrid Bergman in _Notorious_ ," she says. She notices his expression. "What? I watch movies, too."

He watches her go, puts his body between Skye and a line of sight that could make her out walking down the stairs.

It's going to be a while, he predicts.

When somebody asks, he says bathroom. Skye needs quite a bit of time to set up both video and audio recording. All he can do is wait and make sure no one goes snooping around. All he can do is keep the amicable neighbor act as seamlessly as he can (at least tonight he gets to wear proper clothes, instead of bland polos), and play the part of the educated rich guy these people want him to be. He tries not to engage in lengthy conversations with other guests – it's a proper party so everyone is pretty much doing their thing, he can thank that – that he might have to end abruptly if he needs to go help Skye.

Which is exactly what, eventually happens.

And in the most inconvenient way.

It's not someone from the party snooping around. It's that he catches wind of Sylvia taking Nick by the hand and telling him they should get a particular 1991 Dominus from the cellar, because Daniel has been inquiring about recent purchases. Coulson runs scenarios in his head, maneuvers to intercept them – but he can't see a way to keep them off the cellar without raising understandable suspicions about his behavior. He has to think about that.

Fortunately the hosts are slowed down by Daniel's chatter, giving Coulson enough time to find the stairs down the cellar himself to warn Skye, to get her the hell out of there. 

He has to get there on time.

 

+

 

"Skye," he finds her, breathless.

"What are you doing down here?" she whispers. She's done putting the gadgets in place. She was just about to head upstairs. Why is he risking discovery like this?

"Nick and Sylvia are coming down."

"What? Now?"

" _Right now_."

She doesn't need more convincing because then she starts hearing footsteps down the wooden stairs to the cellar.

Shit, shit, shit, she thinks. This is the worst possible scenario. She knew this is the kind of risk you face in undercover, stealthy missions but. She can feel her heart in her mouth.

These people don't play around – they might look like your usual WASP bores but if they are indeed getting HYDRA agents out of the country they most certainly would be willing to kill two intruders. And well she has learned to defend herself, and Coulson is no dead weight, but as she sees it the problem is they are two against a whole gated community. May and Trip are on stand-by half an hour outside this place but it wouldn't be enough. They are alone.

"What are we going to do?" she whispers to Coulson, getting closer to him, a reflex to feel safer down here.

Her mind races through options but she notices Coulson staring at her.

"What?"

" _Notorious_ , uh?" he says.

"What?"

She doesn't understand but then Coulson's mouth is on hers.

His hands find her waist and he pushes her against a shelf with rows and rows of bottles of wine. Skye can hear a slight clink when her back hits against the wood.

She can still feel her heart in her mouth. And her throat. And the tips of her fingers, and everywhere. Coulson is opening his mouth around hers, kissing her open-mouthed and surely not like they do in classic movies. The way he moves to press himself against her, the way the fabric of her dress barely dulls the contact between their bodies.

It takes Skye a bit to realize what is happening, to realize it's not a _real kiss_.

She gets it now. They are not SHIELD agents about to be made – they are just a married couple getting frisky in their friends' basement. That's a good cover and the fact that Skye is trembling against Coulson's chest only helps to sell their story. She grabs his shoulders and pulls him closer to her, not wanting to end the kiss in case the show has not been enough to convince their hosts.

The show would be enough to convince her, the way his tongue is pushing against hers and against the roof of her mouth, playful and hungry and very serious. It's not a real kiss, she reminds herself, biting his lower lip a bit, but it feels better than a lot of real kisses she's had.

Eventually they have to break it when they hear someone clearing their throats right by their side.

Skye opens her eyes, Coulson's hands still resting, open-palmed, over her hips.

"You shouldn't be here," Sylvia says, but it's not the dreaded warning, she's obviously amused by the display. Nick looks a lot less so, but he doesn't look _suspicious_ of them, just personally pissed off, which, Skye doesn't really want to think about. "The party is upstairs. Sneaking around..."

"Sorry, so sorry," Coulson mutters, grabbing Skye's hand very tightly as he passes by their neighbors and leading her out of this place.

 

+

 

"Leaving so soon?" Lindsay asks when she sees Coulson walking through the living room with their coats in his hand. "I'm beginning to think you're a bit asocial."

Coulson tries to smile at her. Skye is still chatting to some other guests in the kitchen, sampling Nick's selection of wines. He can see her from here, leaning on the kitchen counter, the red dress exposing much of her back to him. 

He has no doubt that he made the right call – his little improvisation in the wine cellar probably saved their necks, more or less. But it didn't help with things getting any less _messy_ between them. He can still taste her in his mouth. He watches her now: fake-laughing at Daniel and the way her shoulders tremble makes Coulson think back on the way her whole body had trembled, downstairs, as he held her. He can still feel that. He had gone overboard with the method acting, the way he had presses her hands into Skye's hips, grounding her as he attacked her mouth, because that's probably the word. And Skye's reaction had been equally too enthusiastic for an undercover mission. He should have never pushed her against the wine rack like that, should have never enjoyed (if that is even the word at this point) the way her dress offered almost no resistance to his touch. The way he can't stop thinking about it. It might have saved their necks but he's beginning to regret that move.

But, at the end of it all, it was just an act.

This is just a mission.

He turns to their neighbor, looking for a excuse that allows them to get home and to relative safety as soon as they can.

"I think Laura has drunk a little too much," he tells Lindsay in a confessional tone.

She steps back, lowering the voice. "Oh, I know how that is."

He nods and blissfully the woman lets him continue his way to where Skye is.

 

+

 

She had enough time to set the whole thing up, and they were able to leave the party without incident. Nick and Sylvia didn't mention finding them in the cellar to the others, not even to tease them (that might be weird but Skye doesn't want to think about it, not tonight anyway).

She leaves Coulson in the kitchen. "I'm taking a shower," in a tone that means she really needs it.

She tries to wash the tension away. Not just the almost-being-caught tension; though it definitely means she's not being a very good professional, because she keeps thinking about the kiss. She sighs against the flow of hot water, not feeling refreshed at all. She wonders if the plan has really been a success – it's easier than wondering what the hell Coulson is thinking – and if Nick and Lydia really bought their story. There's nothing much to do about it tonight, except stay vigilant, and Skye is looking forward to a night of sleep, if the anxiety of having Coulson in the same bed doesn't prevent that.

She sighs again as she dries her hair a bit.

When she comes out of the shower she's not expecting Coulson to be in the room (she was expecting him to be as far from here as he could) and she stops in her tracks right by the door, confused by the image of Coulson, still in his tuxedo, standing in the middle of the room, staring at her with a very serious expression on his face.

"Don't worry," she says, trying to assure him this will not be a repeat of the other night. "I'm not – I'll get dressed asap."

She starts walking but he stops her, curling hot fingers around her wrist.

"Skye..."

 

+

 

He doesn't know why he came up after Skye, knowing she would come out of the shower soon.

He doesn't know why all of this is happening or why he kissed her like that in the cellar. It went beyond what was asked for the mission, it was unprofessional, it was taking advantange. He should be apologizing, not replaying it on his mind over and over.

She is the one trying to apologize, trying to avoid making him uncomfortable.

She stumbles upon her words, looking away, ashamed. Telling him how she'll get dressed soon, moving to walk past him.

He stops her with one hand on her wrist. He's afraid he's holding her too tight, except anything would be too tight at this point. The mere fact that he's holding her.

"Skye..."

He doesn't say anything else. In fact he doesn't say anything else for a long while. He pushes Skye's bathrobe open and slips his hand around her waist, catching her mouth in his. She makes a suprised sound but then she reciprocates, moving her mouth fervently, moaning into him as his fingers skim over her back, pulling the robe completely open. Skye pulls at his hair as she kisses him, opening his mouth wider.

Coulson falls to his knees, kissing the scarred skin over her navel, kissing her belly and between her legs, his mouth teasing her through the fabric of her underwear. She says nothing, just lets out a little struggling sound and tangles her fingers in his hair, guiding him when he needs guidance and stopping him when she feels it's too much, too soon.

He makes her come before they make it to the bed.

When they do Skye helps him out of his shirt and pants, and he is surprised that she has packed condoms for this mission, then he remembers they are supposed to be a married couple without immediate plans for a family and maybe Skye was just being careful about characterization. It doesn't matter. She rolls it over his cock with no ceremony, and no need to stop kissing him to see what she is doing. He could love her just for that. She arches to meet him when he needs her to and she tastes shower clean and of lust sweat when he licks her neck as he pushes inside.

Afterwards she kicks the rest of their clothes off the bed and, orgasm-happy, slides her body against his, but unsure, as if she felt she had to ask for permission. Coulson grabs her wrist and pulls her towards him until she is pressed against his back, placing her palm over his chest and keeping it there, fingers laced together.

He hopes he can wake up exactly like this.


	5. going home

She feels guilty again this time, not because she lingers but because she leaves.

She untangles herself from his embrace (at some point during the night they exchanged positions and Coulson's arm ended up around her waist, and his knee pressed against the back of her thigh) and slips into the bathroom without a sound.

She would have loved to linger, she thinks as she takes a hot shower that somehow doesn't feel as warm as what she has just left. Coulson's arm around her waist. How it had felt to wake up in his arms and without guilt or shame this time. The knowledge that she might be able to stay there if she wanted. She'd never thought... But there's work to do and if she has any chance to convince Coulson what they have just done is not a monumental mistake she has to be professional about it.

 

+

 

It's the smell of coffee combined with the sound of typing what eventually draws him to the kitchen.

He feels heavy in a good way and he practically stumbles down the stairs, eyes refusing to open the whole way, still stuck in the nice warmth of a shared bed.

It stings a bit that he woke up alone, though, and he wonders if it means something.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you," Skye explains, a bit hastily. "You looked like you needed the sleep." He nods, taking a seat besides her. "And I didn't know if you'd wanted me there..."

"Why wouldn't I want you there?"

He is not good at saying this kind of things and he has no idea what Skye wants from this – he knows she wanted last night to happen, had been wanting it for some days, but he doesn't know if that means anything, long-term. The whole undercover deal, their Robert and Laura games, maybe Skye just wants to play house for a bit. The idea frightens him, of course.

He's better at showing than saying, so he leans into her and kisses the line of her neck. Her skin tastes clean, of shower gel, and he wishes she still smelled of him, of them both, like last night, afterwards, when he pulled her into his arms and got the first decent night's sleep since they'd arrived.

She smiles at him, delighted.

"I made coffee."

"Thanks." He notices the screen of her computer, the video feed already pulled. "The cameras working?"

"And the bugs," she replies. "Been checking all the stuff from last night. Nobody noticed our little stunt. As far as Nick and Sylvia are concerned the party was a success."

"Good, good," he mutters, as Skye hands him a mug and he examines the images. When she sits by his side again he doesn't push it, seeing how she is into work mode and he is unsure what are the lines and boundaries here ( _what does she want?_ ), but the truth is he wants to kiss her again.

They spend the rest of the morning buried in mission stuff.

If they are right and the Clarkes are moving someone tonight all that's left for them to do is wait, really.

Eventually they've done all they could and things start getting stagnated. He can always tell when Skye is getting antsy because he is just as impatient. It occurs to him that maybe this all (what? what is this?) happened because they are more alike than Coulson likes to admit.

Eventually something has to change.

"I'll make us some lunch," he says without preamble, and at Skye's smile he realizes it's quite different from all the times he has cooked for the both of them before.

 

+

 

The second time is less hectic, which Skye appreciates. It's also more intense, more intimate. Coulson has some tricks up his sleeve he didn't use last night.

It started on the couch, after lunch, a rush of impatient, adolescent kissing seemingly out of nowhere, and then Coulson offered his hand, all gentlemanly and cocky, and held Skye's all the way upstairs.

Maybe it's the daylight filtering through the windows, the fact that they can see each other clearly, but this time it's _different_ , slower, more indulgent. Coulson pushes her gently against the matress and starts undoing the buttons of her jeans. He takes his time kissing the outline of her scars, and the skin between her breasts. He takes his time coaxing a shallow orgasm with the tips of his fingers.

This time they don't rush each other, this time there is no half-dressed desperation. Last night Skye had been too distracted processing the fact that all this was happening, and trying to get rid of a pressure which had been there since they arrived in Arcadia. No, before, way before. She can't pinpoint the exact moment but it had been there for such a long time.

Now she can focus on the details. Coulson's hands on her hips when he flips her over so that she is on top. The feel of them, with the hardened skin in the same places as hers, now that she's been training for a while.

Last night she hadn't noticed the ridiculous and wonderful sounds Coulson makes in bed. She starts catalogizing them in her head now, to keep herself from coming again too soon but it's doing the opposite of helping. There's the growly groan, and the whiny little sob torn from the back of his throat when she squeezes around his cock. The heavy breathing around Skye's mouthed name. The wet noise of his lips parting. That stupidly sexy thing he doesn't know he's doing when he sticks out his tongue and moves it over his lower lip, almost unconsciously. But that's not a sound, she reminds herself, focus, Skye, focus.

This time they kiss for what seems hours, her breasts pressed against Coulson's chest and his hands holding on to her shoulders, the curve of her back. They lose track of time, barely moving, exploring every bit of the other's body with fierce curiosity and fierce trust, as the afternoon begins to lose its light.

At the end of it Skye just feels exhausted and happy. And in love, but that's not new. The happy stuff is, though. 

She turns on her side to look at his face, hoping to find the same things there.

She doesn't.

He is still trying to even out his breathing, lying on his back, chest heaving – Skye wants to place one hand over his heart, still fascinated by the soft hair there (he's not like any man she's ever been with) but she notices his expression.

"What's wrong?" she asks and Coulson hesitates.

"Nothing," he says, his features worringly soft. "We can talk later."

"Or you can tell me right now."

He looks at her. He looks a bit sad, which Skye does not understand, given what they have just done and how well it went, but she knows men can be weird about sex. And Coulson is as weird as they come.

"It's okay," he tells her. "Whatever you want this to be, it's fine."

"What do you mean?"

He turns on his side as well, head on the pillow, a very serious expression.

"If you want this to be just _a thing_. If you want it to mean nothing."

"I don't understand," Skye says.

"These are extraordinary circumstances, Skye. You can tell me if that's just what this is, _circumstances_. It's fine if you just got swept by the idea of being undercover and –"

She is beginning to lose her patience. 

"Coulson. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Skye. It's okay if you just wanted... this. Last night and today. We're going home in a couple of days and I would understand if this is it. I didn't, I mean, _I can't_ be like this... but I would respect that."

She narrows her eyes at him.

She props herself on the bed to look at him from a better angle. She's angry, but not sure if at Coulson or herself.

"Is that what you think I want? A quick release in a suburban house under fake names?" she asks, frustrated that he seems to have got it all so wrong, that she failed to make him feel the way she wanted. "Weren't you here with me just now? Weren't you here last night? Because that's not how I do casual, meaningless sex. That's how I do _wow, I'm crazy about this guy_ sex. I thought I had managed to convey that with the... the everything. Apparently not."

There's a beat. Skye can hear her own heartbeat.

"You're crazy about me?" Coulson asks, looking baffled but pleased.

"I love you," she says, simply. And a bit defiantly.

His hand come to rest on her wrist, drawing the curve of the bone with his thumb.

"Skye..."

"But that's okay if you don't want that," she tells him. "I would also respect that... If this feels like too much and tomorrow you want things to go back to how they were. It would suck but I could do that if that's what you want me to do."

"That's not what I want. I didn't know what I wanted, before, and I didn't lie to you that night, I was scared."

"Are you still scared?" Skye asks.

He shakes his head, propping himself and climbing on top of her. His weight is just – _wonderful_ , and suddenly Skye gets frightened about the possibility of not feeling it again, of something going wrong, of Coulson changing his mind about this.

"But I'm not good at saying it. Let me _show_ you."

The third time is maddeningly slow. His head buried between her legs for what seem hours, pulling her, teasing her, not letting her go.

Skye doesn't even mind he didn't say he loved her too.

 

+

 

"Coulson, Coulson, wake up. Something's going on."

He looks at his watch. Two in the morning and he had been sleeping since the afternoon.

"Come to the computer," Skye repeats, already dragging him off the bed. "They're making their move."

She takes him by the hand all the way downstairs. He casually lets her. There's something almost familiar in it – he thought the details would be more awkward. Skye loves me, he remembers, all of the sudden.

He lets her lead him through the kitchen, now by the arm, positioning him in front of the computer. It takes him a moment to realize what is happening, what the hell is Skye talking about.

He can't believe he has been so stupid, falling asleep like that. Once again, he was more tired than he had thought. This time it was the sex – which makes him feel simultaneously guilty and very, very smug. Even now, while they watch as a truck pulls behind the Clarke's house, Skye's proximity is baffling and distracting.

What she is talking about is that she was right, they were right.

Here it is. Their working theory is a reality; these people _are_ helping HYDRA agents get out of the country.

When the camera feed changes to the inside of the cellar, to two other men helping Nick settle an old man, the presumed HYDRA agent, in a corner, it takes Coulson a moment to realize he has seen that face before.

"You know him?" Skye asks, noticing his expression.

Coulson finds himself envying her blissful ignorance. 

He sits back on the chair, his eyes no longer focused. "Yeah I know him."

"Is he...?"

" _HYDRA_? Pretty sure. Alexander Pierce recruited him – everybody knows the story."

"Everybody knows the story?"

Coulson draws a long breath. Then he can feel Skye's hand coming to rest between his shoulder-blades, pressing a comforting palm against his back. She doesn't know what's going on, she just wants to help him, make him feel better. He feels overwhelmed and inadequate.

He points at the man in the screen, the seventy year old man hiding in a wine cellar.

"Thomas J Rose," he says, trying to copy the pomp and circusmtance with which he used to hear the name. " A living legend. He run SHIELD's office in London until they started recruiting locals. Then he went on to teach at the Academy. That's how everybody knows the story. Because he told it."

He had no idea this man was on the list of people who run away after SHIELD fell. He had just assumed...

"This guy taught at the Academy," Skye repeats, stunned. Coulson can't blame her. He suddenly feels way too old for this. All of this. He has been pretending cleaning up after HYDRA could change the past, but it can't.

"Ops, then in Comms," he explains. "He taught new recruits. For over ten years. He was semi-retired, went into politics, did good for himself, but still taught the occasional class."

"Oh god," Skye exhales with horror.

Coulson curls his fingers around the edge of the table, feeling nauseous.

"These people... I..."

He's pretty sure he can't breathe, much less finish that thought.

"You gave _these people_ your life," Skye finishes for him.

How could he have thought everything would be all right? He has spent the previous day making love to a person he's pretty sure he's in love with but he should have remembered the world is still a horrible place. How can a fleeting moment of joy compete with this, this he is seeing on the computer screen with his own eyes?

"Everything is tainted," he says.

Skye's fingers slip from his back to his arm, squeezing lightly.

"It doesn't have to be," she says and he finally turns to her, catching her sad smile. "You gave these people your old life, you don't have to give them any part of your new one. They don't deserve it." She presses herself to his side and kisses his temple gently, lips brushing against his graying hair. "Don't let them make one single dent on your kindness or your bravery."

He pulls back a bit to look at her, in shock.

He can't help it, with everything else that's happening, he reaches out to and threads his hand in Skye's hair, runs his fingers through it, looking at this woman's face like he was seeing it for the first time. In a way he is. The first time he saw her he didn't notice, he didn't know.

"I'm not the one who's kind and brave here," he tells her.

"I beg to differ," she says, looking smug, kissing him. "You're here, finishing the job. Aren't you? A job nobody asked you to, but you felt you had to do, that it was your responsibility. You're here."

He agrees.

"So," she continues. " _Call it_."

He looks at the screen again, then back at Skye.

She's right.

About everything.

Of course she is.

"Get the team on the sat phone," he says, his voice surprisingly normal and in control. He gives Skye a grateful smile. "And suit up. We're moving in. Now."

She gives him a solemn nod.

 

+

 

Ten minutes later they are ready to storm the place.

"May said they'll rendezvous with us at the Clarke's. But if we can get there first I think we should take the chance. I think we can take them," she says.

Coulson throws an amused look at her sudden transformation: from pajama pants and a flannel shirt to combat gear in a record time. She hopes it's also an admiring look.

"What, you've never seen a suburban housewife in a catsuit?" Skye teases him.

He looks likewise stealthy and alluring in his dark t-shirt and his bulletproof vest.

They don't think these people are going to react with much violence and Skye breathes much easier knowing the team is already on their way, but Coulson still grabs an actual gun alongside his ICER, just in case.

It's kind of surreal, if she thinks about it. Preparing an assault on this pastel color, seemingly boring, perfect suburban neighborhood. And in the middle of the night, and from the living room of a house just as pastel and boring and perfect as the rest.

"Robert and Laura Holden to the rescue," Skye jokes.

Coulson makes a strange face at that.

"No," he says. "There's no Robert or Laura here. Just Agent Skye and Agent Coulson. _You and me_."

Despite her vow of professionality Skye can't _not_ kiss him right now, not after that. She grabs him by the neck of his vest and pulls him against her.

It's very dramatic and very hot.

"Sorry if that was inappropriate," she says, biting her lower lip and a bit dizzy by the way his tongue pushed against hers just a moment ago.

He fixes her _a look_. 

" _Highly_ inappropriate, I should say."

She chuckles, trying to hide how hard her heart is thumping and how that's not because of the mission, not entirely. Coulson is a lot quicker when it comes to returning to a semblance of professionality.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"I am now."

And she is.

They are like shadows, running the length of the street in the night, avoiding porch lights, swift and in synch.

It goes smoothly enough, as a mission, and Skye is glad for no last minute deathly situations and no surprises, just a job well done. She hasn't been on the field long enough that she can take nights like this as the norm. Her whole body will be in tension for a long time afterwards. She's a good shot and she can handle herself hand-to-hand but she guesses it'll still be years before she is anywhere near comfortable walking towards the enemy like this.

Nick tries to run (leaving behind the HYDRA agent and his own wife, figures) but it doesn't take much for Coulson to reduce him while she was looking over the other prisoners.

The neighborhood wakes up little by little.

Soon enough Trip and May get there and start rounding up the people they got proof have aided in this operation.

It's the end of Arcadia and its dreams and its ugly secrets.

Skye watches as Coulson personally shoves Nick Clarke in the back of the van and that's it.

Nobody asks these people why; why these seemingly normal people would do such a thing, would be part in something so hideous.

"You're going to jail for a long time," Coulson tells them. There's no such thing as SHIELD holding facilities anymore, so they are going to hand over the prisoners to the Army.

Coulson refuses to approach Thomas Rose, though, leaves him to May.

"Are you okay?" Skye asks when she notices his troubled face, when they are both in the back of a car and watching Arcadia getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, _their house_ disappearing.

"I will be," he tells her with unexpected honesty. "I'm glad we're going home."

_Going home_. She wonders what that even means anymore. And what it means to Coulson.

And well, Skye is glad too, and at the same time she isn't, but she understands him.

 

+

 

Debriefing is endless, but they do have a lot to inform of, to many people.

Debriefing is endless and he had thought being the Director had some perks like skipping this step, but apparently the red tape intensifies when you are in charge.

Debriefing is endless and though historically he has hated the bureacratic bits of this job today he is handling it worse than usual. He won't pretend it's something other than for an obvious reason.

He tries not to be impatient about it, not to look out of character.

The fact is: he feels out of character.

He doesn't feel like the same man who walked out of this base three weeks ago. He's probably not, anyway. So many things have happened. He has understood many things. He's _changed_.

And he's still doing that, changing, because in the couple of hours that takes him and Skye to gather all the data on the mission and send it to the proper authorities and share it with the rest of the team, he makes a couple of decisions.

Mainly he wants to be alone with her again.

"The mission is finished," May tells him afterwards, and Coulson thinks he detects a hint of amusement in her tone but he might be imagining things. "Yet you look like you are still searching for a way to make things go wrong."

He shakes his head, smiles at his friend. "Not _this time_."

 

+

 

It feels weird to be back.

It feels weird _er_ because a lot has happened. A LOT, in uppercase.

Skye can't stop thinking about the A LOT bit of it all.

She got the feeling Coulson wanted to talk to her after the debriefing. Which is why she scurried away to her room. Oh, she wants to have a conversation. She wants _this_ conversation. But she wants to have it in the comfort of familiar territory.

She waits for him to come to her – that in itself is a win, she thinks, though she doesn't know at what game or against whom she's playing – and he does, promptly. As promptly as she imagines he is able to, what with the mountain of paperwork she knows he had to deal with first. 

She's pacing the room when he enters and closes the door behind him. Skye is not sure if the closed door is a good sign or a very bad one.

"So."

"Yes."

"It's kind of a pity this is over," she says, sighing. "You promised to make quinoa salad tonight."

Coulson smiles. "I can still make you a salad. We don't need to be undercover."

"I thought cooking was incompatible with your obligations as Director."

"I'm sure I could make an exception."

And surely, surely he must be teasing her.

But the truth is Skye wants to be that exception in his life. She can't tell him that.

"So," she says again.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

Skye doesn't know where to start.

There are only a million things they should be talking about; a million complications and ramifications of what they have just done. A million reasons they could come up with to stop, to write it off as a mistake. She remembers she told him she loved him. She can't quite take that back now. She doesn't want to. But that still leaves her with a million ways this could go.

Skye doesn't know where to start so she starts by pushing Coulson gently against the door and kissing him. His mouth is just as wonderfully hot and soft and sensitive as it had been behind the gates of the Arcadia neighborhood. That hasn't changed and she thinks this is a good sign.

Like the night they first kissed in that cellar – though it was a fake kiss, though maybe it wasn't – Skye is a bit scared to break it up and open her eyes.

Coulson puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her away slowly, little by little.

"This is really nice –" he tells her.

"But?"

But he is going to pull back, she knows it.

"I wanted to run an idea past you," he says.

She worries he is going to stop this, or delay it on some technicality. She shrugs, trying to look unconcerned, like she doesn't care either way, even though her hands are still somehow all over him. She does this kind of crap, she realizes, all the time, even with someone like Coulson, with someone she has no reason to feel scared of.

"Shoot." she tells him.

"I wanted to tell the team."

"About?"

He arches an eyebrow.

"About what happened between us while we were undercover. About what is happening now."

Skye lets him go, taken aback by the idea, and very surprised this is his move.

Judging by how he was acting this last couple of days, as if he was in over his head, Skye didn't think he would want to make things official, at least not so soon.

She sits on her bed, trying to gain some distance to think it over.

"Are you sure?" she asks. She doesn't want to push him to do anything, rushing might the shortest way to screw it all up. Her own feelings on the matter are... well, she wouldn't mind. She has not one doubt about her feelings, but she is willing to acommodate the possibility that Coulson does.

He shoves his hands into his pockets. 

"I think it's fair. For the team, for us." It gives Skye a little thrill, every time he uses the word _us_. Coulson studies her face. "But only if you are all right with it."

"It's not that. I'm fine but..."

"What?"

She can't believe she is the one who has to bring up the rules.

"What are you going to tell them? Aren't there rules against what we've done?" she asks him.

Coulson takes a moment, still staring at her face like he's reading a book. He takes his hands out of his pockets, going back to the stiff, boss-like position.

"There are," he replies. He looks strangely calm. He goes on: "And I will tell them that I take full responsibility for breaking those rules, and for any way in which that decision might endanger our job. But I'll also tell them that I love you and I don't care about the hypothetical fallout. The mission is important, but it's not the only thing that's important. This is important. I'm sure they'll understand."

Skye blinks at him.

"Any thoughts on this?" he asks, a bit impatient, when it looks like she is not going to answer.

She shifts on her bed.

"You love me?"

Coulson nods, still calm, like he has just said the most casual thing in the world.

She stands up and walks towards him. She brushes her nose against his cheek, kissing him softly on the corner of his mouth. Coulson's previous very-professional stance relaxes in her hands.

Skye runs his hands along his chest for a moment, trying to get a clue from the way his heart is beating. He's not lying and he's not nervous. And he's looking at her, he's just looking at her like he loves her.

She reaches her hand behind him and locks the door.

"Show me," she tells him.

Coulson drops to his knees.


End file.
